


Torch of Victory

by keirajo



Series: The Prime and the Emperor [9]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alliances, Drama, F/M, M/M, Multi, Romance, Sexual Interfacing, War, friendships, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: As the ongoing conflict between the alliance of the Autobots and Decepticons against Starscream's Destron Amy heats up.........new alliances are forged, new allies are found and a very old menace creeps closer and closer to Cybertron.   Rodimus Prime, his friends, lovers and allies all are preparing to confront the enemy on all fronts, using all of their methods at their disposal.   But in the end, will it be enough to prevent the coming apocalypse from consuming Cybertron, Chaar, Earth and the other allies of the Autobots and the Decepticons.
Relationships: Galvatron/Rodimus Prime, Rodimus Prime/Ultra Magnus
Series: The Prime and the Emperor [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1440979
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Strange Negotiations

**Author's Note:**

> Another ambitious work in the trail of "Burn Brightly"--this [very long] 'fic will ramp everything up on a collision course heading for an eventual ending in this series arc of works. But, don't worry, Galvatron and Rodimus will have more works (a new series) devoted to them after this arc concludes. *chuckle*
> 
> I haven't added all the characters (because SPOILERS!) to the tags, yet--nor did I add tags for the two merely mentioned in this first chapter. But I did add probably some of the other things to the tags that will happen--like this chapter isn't explicit, but you KNOW Rodimus and Galvatron will get it on somewhere during this work, so I just slapped the rating on there already.
> 
> Frankly, I was surprised Misha Miramond actually popped up in the tags, first and last name--I couldn't even remember what Misha's last name was until I recently re-watched "Energon" while being stuck at home. They never actually SAY her name in the dub version of "Energon" (heck, they call her Mika a few times in early episodes), but there's a flashback moment where she's at her parents' graves and the last name is on the tombstone. Re-watching also reminded me that "Kicker" is not Kicker's actual name........he's named after his dad, Doctor Jones calls him "Junior" a few times in early episodes (which makes Kicker so angry). In the dub, Doctor Jones is never given a first name, but I gave him one in these stories so........I went with that.

**_ Torch of Victory _ **

_ Chapter One: Strange Negotiations _

“ ** _Thomas. Jones. Junior_** ,” a sharp, deep voice said loudly from the front of the classroom. “ _Get your feet off of the desk, stop texting your girlfriend and focus on class!_ ” Mr. Kaito yelled loudly.

Other students in the class began whispering and snickering. The girl in front of Kicker, chuckled softly and glanced back at the brown-haired teenager and swatted a palm at one of his athletic shoes and tried a very serious attempt at a frown of disapproval, but she was laughing too hard inside to make it work.

“ _She’s not my girlfriend! **She’s the daughter of the Autobot ambassador!**_ ” Kicker complained loudly, very annoyed at being called his actual given name rather than his common nickname. He sent a quick and polite “ _good-bye_ ” to Stormbreaker and settled down properly in his desk seat. “ _Jeeze, she’s more like a little sister than anything_ ,” he muttered, propping his head on his palm, with his elbow resting on his desk.

“You really should leave your phone in your locker, Kicker,” the girl in front of him said, softly, so that the teacher wouldn’t hear her.

“It’s **_not_** a phone, Misha, it’s a _datapad_ and it’s got better communications connections than any old smartphone,” the teenage boy grumbled softly, poking a couple fingers in the neckline of his school jacket and loosening the collar a little bit with frustration. “And there’s no way I’m leaving something _that important_ in my locker.”

Misha Miramond smiled and just gave a light little chuckle to show she heard him, but kept her attention focused on the front of the classroom and the teacher. Ever since they had come back from summer vacation, Kicker seemed more frustrated with school than he ever had before. It wasn’t that he was bad at school or studying or sports, he was actually extremely talented in everything—he just knew **_this_** wasn’t going to be his life. He had a future travelling the universe with Rodimus Prime and his crew of peacemakers or whatever the heck they were called. The education he needed for all of **_THAT_** was not going to be found in an Earth high school classroom—no matter how important or prestigious this private high school was here on this planet.

Misha wondered how a teenager as active and as boisterous as Kicker was had managed to have the _second spot_ in the entire school, gradepoint-wise. His grades were superb and secondary only to Misha’s own—she was the one at the top of the school gradepoint-wise. It only made him a lot more interesting to her, as a person and a fellow student at the high school. But even Misha knew that Kicker’s heart wasn’t on Earth any longer. She always felt he would likely end up working on Athenia, like his father, not that he’d be travelling the universe with a bunch of Transformers though. But after hearing all about his summer trip, working with Rodimus Prime and having the adventure he had on Brex—she saw the fire ignited in him and realized that he was looking _far beyond_ Earth and even Athenia.

There was no way she could be a girlfriend to a guy like that, so she decided never to admit her crush on Kicker and resolved to at least remain his good friend for as long as she could be that person. And, despite Kicker’s lack of proper respect sometimes, she knew he could be quite charming and would become a wonderful ambassador—maybe someone as full of life as he was would spark interest in the human race from other species in the universe as he travelled with Rodimus Prime and his crew?

Earth was still a long way from being up to “ _space exploration_ ” as many of the other members of the Galactic Alliance were, but they were learning a lot from their sponsorship by the Autobots and began to absorb new technology and new ways to upgrade everything they knew, from biochemistry to engineering. The EDC’s technology had been improving, but they still couldn’t create deep space craft without the Autobots’ help. And to be perfectly honest, Misha wanted to remain on Earth to help her planet be ready to interact with the member species of the Galactic Alliance on much higher levels than they were already at—so, hers and Kicker’s destinies were already pretty much at odds with one another.

_It was all right, as long as they could remain friends._

“Kicker, the teacher’s going to call upon you, you’d better be ready with an answer,” Misha whispered, glancing over her shoulder for a moment.

Kicker grumbled and looked forward, towards Mr. Kaito.

“Thomas, I’d like for you to come up to the smartboard and solve this equation for me,” the teacher said, his gaze homing in on his most troublemaking—and second smartest—student.

“I will if you’ll stop calling me my dad’s name,” Kicker shot back.

“ _Thomas Jones, Junior_ —please focus on the class and not your own personal problems,” Mr. Kaito snapped back.

Kicker grumbled and shot up from his seat, he never could get any of his teachers to call him his preferred name of “ _Kicker_ ”, over his birthname. His own father only ever called him “ _Junior_ ” merely to tease him—and his real full name only if he were angry—otherwise, his dad actually called him Kicker as well. To be truthful, “ _Kicker_ ” was the nickname his dad gave him as a toddler……….and he’d liked it so much, he made it the name he preferred to be called by as he grew up.

He stomped to the front of the classroom and placed his hands on his hips as he looked at the math problem on the board. Math wasn’t his greatest subject, but he wasn’t horrible at it—not considering who his father was! Kicker sighed, this was way too easy for almost anyone and nowhere near a challenge for him.

“ _Really_ , Mr. Kaito? I mean, wouldn’t you rather give this to someone else who might want the challenge?” The brown-haired teenager asked, flashing his teacher a really big grin, as he picked up the board stylus from the container.

“Just solve it, Thomas,” Mr. Kaito groaned, rubbing his forehead as he shook his head with frustration.

“Okay then,” Kicker laughed, turning to the board and began writing the missing symbols and numbers of the equation quickly. Then he added a little smiley face to the end of the equation to mark that he was done and pleased with his answer. “Though, really………. _if you moved this and this_ …….” the teenager added, writing another, somewhat similar equation on the board. “Do this and this, too—it would’ve made me have to think a little harder about this equation. _Just a little bit_.”

“ _Show-off!_ ” Someone in the class chortled.

“Guys, this is _really easy_. **_Here_** ,” Kicker said, waving his arm with a dramatic flourish and then wiped the smartboard and started putting up a new equation on the smartboard and leaving blanks in it where the numbers and symbols were meant to be filled in. “Can anybody besides Mr. Kaito and Misha solve this? If you can, I’ll buy you lunch out of my own pockets today!” The teenager laughed, tapping on the board with the blunt end of the stylus.

“ _Thomas! Sit down, right now!_ ” Mr. Kaito snapped, shaking his head and walking up to the smartboard. “Oh, for the love of…… ** _tch_**.” He looked at the equation, solved it in his head and smiled with pleasure as he erased the problem from the board. If only he could get Kicker motivated to actually be in the class instead of distancing himself from it. The boy was smarter than he let on— _a whole lot smarter than he let on._

* * * * *

Rodimus Prime looked down into the massive crater that had been made and gave a low whistle. Right now, Flamewar was directing a small crew to excavate carefully down in the crater, they’d found………… ** _something_** ………….besides the sword they dug up a little while back. But no one was quite sure what it was, yet. Flamewar said that if they were looking for a gestalt, she wasn’t sure if they’d find the gestalt in combined form or if they’d find it in their separate, individual forms. And if the gestalt were separated, could they be sure to find all of the members? Since some combined forces had been shown to have between 3-6 members.

The most important question of all, though, was……….. _would the gestalt be alive_?

Rodimus felt the gestalt would likely be alive, if only by the way Vector Sigma’s enigmatic words alluded to it. However, after speaking with the Quintesson about the Darkest One and the twins of Bora-il-Kalen and Kila-il-Lairn………it sounded like the only thing that might be necessary to fight against a revival of the Darkest One would be this gestalt’s sword, which they’d already found. In Vector Sigma’s enigmatic way of speaking, maybe _only the sword_ was actually necessary, but that would mean they’d need a gestalt of their own to wield it—or maybe a Titan. Even Rodimus Prime couldn’t always interpret Vector Sigma’s words properly. So, he couldn’t be 100% certain that they would find the members of this gestalt team intact and alive. They **_did_** have the sword, though, and if worst came to worst—then they could use the sword at any rate.

“To be honest, Rodimus—I can’t even deduce all the materials that went into the making of this blade,” Perceptor sighed, tapping his datapad against his other servo lightly. “The mere concept that it has no wearing or damage after being buried in the Rust Sea for ages, no battle scars as weapons tend to earn over time—all of this tells me that there’s more than just this Quintesson element used in its forging. If this gestalt team may be forged using some of the same materials—then I do believe we will find them intact beneath all of this.”

“I think when we stop to consider just how long Alpha Trion’s lifespan was—we could probably deduce that he was made of some of these original materials from the first Quintesson homeworld of Quintessa. And we all saw how durable and long-lasting his frame was,” the flame-colored mech said, placing his servos on his hips and looked over at the revered Autobot scientist. “I guess, if I understand what that Quintesson told me—Quintessa was destroyed by this _‘Darkest One’_ and not Unicron, so it was not _‘devoured’_. That meant they must’ve salvaged the remains of their own planet and it’s materials and minerals to use in creating Cybertron and the earlier MH and CG lines.”

“Does that not bring up some very valid questions about **_Cybertron_** , though?” The red-and-grey scientist asked, frowning as he looked into Rodimus’ optics. “The fact that there is a small planetary system here in orbit around the tri-star that the Earthlings call Alpha Centauri means there were planets here to start with.”

“ _Yeah_. All normal rock and mineral-based planets, just Cybertron’s the only one all metal,” Rodimus responded with a deep sigh and shook his head. “I mean, look……….this is just me throwing out random things…….but suppose that this was a small planetoid— _this one_ orbit around the tri-star?”

Perceptor tilted his head curiously and gestured with the servo holding the datapad to say “ _yes, and….?_ ”, encouraging the flame-colored mech to continue on with his theory.

“ ** _So_** , what if the Quintessons sculpted this planetoid in development—added what materials they wanted to a _‘base core’_ of some sort? I mean, _okay_ ……..see, from what I’ve heard from the Quintessons and from Vector Sigma and stuff in the Matrix— _Cybertron is Primus_ and………..has a form like ours, just we’ve never seen the planet transform and take it,” Rodimus said, waving his hands as he tried to make all of his thoughts coherent to someone as smart as Perceptor.

“Just as Unicron had a planet form and could transform into a _‘robot mode’_ like our primary modes?” Perceptor suggested.

“ _Exactly_. Vector Sigma said to me that the _‘frame is old’_ ,” the flame-colored mech sighed, planting one servo back on his hip and rubbed his forehead with the other one.

“Age-related issues? A malfunction in his T-Cog?” Perceptor asked, a frown of puzzlement on his faceplate. “But _where_ is his T-Cog, then? And………. _ah, Rodimus_ —all of this brings up far too many questions. Do we even know what to expect of this _‘Darkest One’_? Another planetary monster like Unicron?” The scientist raised a servo to his temple and rubbed it soothingly. “But how was _Unicron_ created to begin with? Are we to believe the stories of that strange little organic Primacron?”

“ _Hell, Perceptor—you’ve got me_. I begin to think that that wasn’t even the organic’s actual designation to be honest,” Rodimus Prime groaned, shaking his head. “The materials on that scale tell me that it could not simply be a _single person_ building the frame………..not if it took the near whole of the Quintesson species to craft Cybertron.” Then the flame-colored mech straightened up with a surprise. “ ** _Wait._** _Wait a sec._ What if Unicron wasn’t crafted as we’re thinking of it—you know, **_built_**? What if…………what if Unicron was created as a _‘sparkling’_ of some sort? I mean, on a small scale with the ability to grow—like mine and Galvatron’s little bratlings?”

“ _That_ ………..that would actually be a very fascinating way to craft an individual…….” Perceptor gasped. “Wait—this theory could even be true of what we know of Titans. Or at least the ones created from Cybertron. Metroplex and Trypticon.”

“ _Exactly_ , neither of those could exit Vector Sigma’s chamber at the size they have—even **_we_** have stretchable derma and some armour can be expanded or contracted,” Rodimus said, grinning and nodding. After all, when they had all encountered Metroplex for the very first time, before sending him to Earth—he had been found in his city mode outside of the ruins of Crystal City. He’d said he had a Forge-mate, which they now knew was Trypticon, but they had to “ _rest a very long time_ ” after exiting the Chamber of the Forge. Metroplex sometimes spoke as cryptically as Vector Sigma—though he could usually be figured out a lot easier than the ancient Master Computer. Perhaps that meant they needed to fuel and recharge and “ _grow_ ” into their fully-realized final forms?

Not just all of that, but Metroplex had needed some adjustments to his frame—cosmetic reconstruction of a sort. The Constructicons had done the same to Trypticon, making it seem as if the two Titans had been “ _newly built_ ”, but they’d simply been fixed and adjusted to suit their growing frames. Novablaze had needed some cosmetic reconstruction after a couple of his larger growth spurts, because his armour had felt “ _too tight_ ” in places and Hook had been extremely concerned for stress damage to the growing frame without the adjustments. Rodimus, himself, had experienced something similar carrying both of his sparklings! It was likely Stormbreaker might one day need some of that as well, but she had a different shape to her armour—the female-shape, which had less armour pieces than a mech’s frame did. Heavy-armoured frames like the Titans would likely need more and more of the cosmetic reconstruction adjustments to it.

“ _Oh, well **hell**_ ………….no wonder Trypticon’s not getting better after all these years— _we’re ignoring her growth_ ,” Rodimus Prime groaned, slapping his forehead. “None of us, not even the Constructicons, have even considered the fact that Trypticon may have stress damage on her frame. I’m glyphing Hook now, to consider the matter—as we’ve been bantering about.”

“ _’Her’_?” Perceptor asked, his optics brightening with curiosity.

“Yeah, I know, right? I don’t think any of us even realized it—her primary form is a dinosaur kind of robot, it doesn’t show the frame patterns that our _‘robot’_ modes do, mech or femme,” Rodimus Prime laughed, grinning at Perceptor. “Plus……….she has that tendency to speak of herself in the third person, like the Dinobots do—and her vocalizer tone is very deep, because she’s really, _REALLY_ big. So, we’ve never heard her refer to herself as a female, we all just assumed mech because we just assume mech until we’re told otherwise. There’s a really old Decepticon Seeker that was like that, because she had the standard Seeker mold and not an adjusted one like Slipstream—she looked like the others, even though she was a femme…….. _Nova Storm_. Slipstream told me about her, she worked with this Stealth Trine that had Ion Storm and Red Wing in it. Technically, in all records, that Trine didn’t even exist………if anything, they were often just called _‘Rainmakers’_ and Autobots thought of that designation as rather literal most time, most of the time we associated all Seekers with Rainmakers. Especially ones like the Hunter Trine were sometimes often called Rainmakers, because they did the dirty work no one wanted to admit, like assassinations. It makes sense to assign a more innocent moniker to a dangerous force, if you want to keep their duties a secret in war.”

“I believe I recall that femme’s designation, didn’t she look much like Sunstorm?” The Autobot scientist inquired.

“Yeah, just she had a more vivid yellow pattern on her frame—Sunstorm was more of an orangey-yellow,” the flame-colored mech answered, nodding vigorously.

“Rodimus Prime, it is **_always_** an adventure speaking to you—all of your tangents give me so much more to think about and consider,” Perceptor laughed, warmly. “I see things in such a straight and linear format, that I miss seeing the strange little deviations that life throws in there. I am very glad for your presence in existence right now. You make me look at those deviations and broaden my horizons.”

“ ** _Awww_** _. Thanks Perceptor_ ,” Rodimus responded with a shy little smile and reaching up to rub the back of his neck. There was just so many things he was learning more and more about as time went by. It was like as he walked down the path of his life—it started out so very narrow and limited in scope and was becoming wider and broader the further down it that he walked. Limitless possibilities and numerous opportunities were there, all around him. _So much to see and do!_

And there was a bright ending out there somewhere.

“Hey—anyone up there who can come down and give us a hand?” Flamewar’s familiar voice called from the depths of the crater.

“ _Duty calls!_ ” Rodimus Prime chuckled, giving Perceptor a little salute before he jumped down into the crater.

“ _Oh_ , you’re here, Prime?” The dark-colored femme chuckled as she saw Rodimus’ frame land a couple feet away from her. She rubbed off her arms with a towel and made a motion for the flame-colored mech to follow her. “ ** _Well_** _. It’s complicated_. I think we’ve found the gestalt is in their combined form, except an arm is missing—so one of the members of this team isn’t here.”

Rodimus looked at the faded old armour of what clearly looked like a shoulder in the lighted area they were standing close to. The cavern was dark up ahead, so he couldn’t see the remainder of the frame. The shoulder socket was empty, which meant that there was definitely an arm missing.

“How long before we can get a crew in here to pull the gestalt out?” He asked, turning to the Destron femme.

“There’s still a lot of the frame that’s stuck in some of the substance down here, so it’ll probably be a few more weeks at least,” Flamewar answered, shaking her head and planting her servos on her hips. “We found the sword further away, so……..I think, possibly, the missing arm could be the gestalt’s sword arm? Maybe if we plot a line between where we’ve found this frame and the sword, we’ll find the missing limb somewhere along that path?”

“ _Perhaps_ ,” Rodimus murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “This work suits you, Flamewar—there’s **_a lot_** we can learn buried in Cybertron’s depths. If you want, you can change your allegiance………?” He asked, smiling at her.

“You’re a nice guy, Rodimus Prime, but I _can’t_ be an Autobot,” Flamewar laughed softly, reaching over to pat his shoulder.

“You don’t have to be. You can go back to being a Decepticon,” he chuckled, warmly. “Or you can go _without a brand_ , but you don’t have to wear **_that one_** anymore,” the flame-colored mech added, pointing to the Destron brand on her waist-hip plating.

“ _Can’t. **Look**._ Starscream’s brands are……. _well_ , I can’t really explain, but he’ll know if you remove his brand and that won’t be good for you,” the dark-colored femme said softly.

Rodimus frowned deeply. Starscream booby-trapped his Destron brands that all his troops wore? He made a disgusted sound and folded his arms over his chest. As long as Flamewar wore the brand, Starscream knew she _wasn’t dead_ , nor had she betrayed his cause by removing it—but if she removed the brand, she immediately became a target to be eliminated. Just when Rodimus Prime thought that Starscream had already gone too far, he kept going even further in cruelty and terror.

But, then, given many of the names that were included on Cyclonus’ list and everyone they knew had already joined the Destron Army—all of them would be loyal to that cause to get what they wanted. It sounded like Starscream had rules, but he allowed his army to do as they wished, as long as it forwarded the cause. It was more freedom than Megatron ever gave the Decepticons, so it was likely many of those Decepticons were pleased to have freedom and to keep doing all the chaotic things they wanted to do.

“You really _are_ a nice guy. You worry too much for the universe at large, it’s no wonder Galvatron is always on your case to stop stressing out,” Flamewar laughed with warmth in the tone of her vocalizer. “Frankly………I’m always amazed to see how much he cares about you. _No one_ expects that from Galvatron and he’s not mushy about it either—he’ll loudly chide you just as much as move in to protect you. I can’t tell you how much this shocks and disappoints Starscream, though………I suppose since he still views Galvatron as Megatron and everything that Megatron did to him? _Yeah, it pisses Starscream off to the max._ ”

“Galvatron lost most of what had made him Megatron—it’s a good thing, honestly,” Rodimus said, smiling ruefully. “And he may not be a very nice guy, but he’s honest about everything. Galvatron can’t be dishonest.”

“That is frightening,” Flamewar laughed.

* * * * *

“Hey, if you wanna learn the trade, you might wanna just watch,” Swindle chuckled, glancing back at his tall companion.

“I did not want to _‘learn the trade’_ , as you say, but I am curious to see more worlds,” Dai Atlas responded with a pleasant smile. “Plus, you’re a lot of fun to spend some time with.”

The two were on the bazaar on Alfor-Two, the planetoid that was one giant shopping center. It was where Swindle got a good portion of his materials to sell in his shop on Chaar. Dai Atlas had happened to be in the shop the other day, when he was talking with a Decepticon named “ _Deluge_ ” about running the shop for a few days while he went off to get more things to add to the shop. Out of curiosity, he’d asked Swindle if he could come along to see the bazaar and help Swindle bring things home.

Swindle had pondered the idea of the big Jyuuishi-born mech tagging along with him and didn’t immediately dismiss the mech for two reasons. The first one was that Dai Atlas was incredibly strong— _and big_ —and he could carry some things that might give Swindle trouble. That meant Swindle could purchase a few things he might normally have passed up, because he couldn’t get them home himself. The second was, Dai Atlas had forged a lot of……… _friendships? Relationships?._.........with Decepticons and some of the Autobots that had visited Chaar for the entertainment district—the big mech had a good idea what those people might like. So, Swindle could get some opinions of new things to sell in the shop, based upon Dai Atlas’ own personal interactions with others.

Plus, with Starscream out there somewhere and his Destron Army—it wouldn’t hurt to have a backup ally who was pretty strong, should the very worst of incidences occur. Swindle _wasn’t_ just here to get more supplies for his shop, he was also here to get information and things might get a little dicey once he started inquiring about “ _Destrons_ ” or Starscream in particular.

And, to Swindle personally, it was also nice to hear the big foreign-born Cybertronian-type mech say that he was “ _fun_ ” to spend time with. Dai Atlas was most certainly a charmer of the highest caliber. However, he couldn’t reach his full potential of that charm without getting a lot more universal experience. So, Swindle knew it would be a big benefit to the adult sparkling from Jyuuishi to go around and interact with more species and cultures in the universe—and the bazaar on Alfor-Two would be a perfect place to start.

“ _Mmmmm_. I really like the unique patterns on these rugs,” Dai Atlas murmured, gazing at a stall that was comprised of rugs and curtains—plus there were baskets full of rolled up items which might likely be wallpapers. “You know, I think a couple of the mechs I’ve spent time with have had some plain area rugs at their habs—I wonder if they’d like something more colorful like this?”

Swindle made a note of that. Some Decepticons might be all right with plain and solid colors, but as the Decepticons began to grow and become their own species separate from the war that had defined them for far too long—it was entirely possible that some might like some color and artistic patterns decorating their hab suites? The Decepticons were on their way to finding all their own originality in fate and personality.

“Would it be all right if I purchased a few things for myself, while we’re here?” The blue-and-yellow mech asked, smiling over at Swindle.

“ _Nah, I don’t mind_. But keep an eye on your haggling or you might get………. _eh-heh-heh……. **swindled**_ ,” the Combaticon procurations manager chuckled softly. He went and looked at a stall across from the rug and curtain stall—partly to give Dai Atlas some privacy, but staying within audial-range in case the mech might find himself getting fleeced by the seller. Plus he had to look around for his contact—and it was better to do so subtly, as in pretending to look at wares from nearby stalls.

That was when he saw someone he knew—and wasn’t very sure he entirely trusted. Swindle positioned himself behind a tall rack of dried herbs and plants at the stall, making sure that if the mech looked in his direction, they wouldn’t see him—then he made sure to lock down his field completely. Oddly, **_that_** made Dai Atlas glance over his shoulder towards him—of course the giant adult sparkling from Jyuuishi would be _field-sensitive_ , since they had locked their fields down for so long in their own personal lives.

Swindle made a dismissive motion with his servo, to make Dai Atlas go back to his bargaining for a few area rugs he liked. The large blue-and-yellow mech gave a little sigh and turned his attention back to the stall he was at and the dealer he was haggling with.

_‘What is that jerk doing here? Showing his faceplate after so long?’_ Swindle thought, grumpily, peering around the rack and looking down the center lane of the stalls, towards the stall where a mid-sized mech of Seeker design was loitering. He had two small mechs with him—very small ones, Mini-Cons of some sort, Swindle supposed. They looked like twins, both with colors of teal and sea-green on their small frames. From all that Swindle had come to understand of the two Mini-Con types………the normal ones and the ones called Battle Masters……..there were batches of them that had frame similarity or color patterns. Such things generally denoted a “ _team_ ” of some sort.

Such as the trio of Mini-Cons that hung around Rodimus Prime like a bunch of passionate groupies, they could transform into a sword together, but they had individual alt modes as aerial vehicles—however, they had similarity in colors and some frame accoutrements. In a way, those three were like a gestalt, just a _very tiny gestalt_.

_‘No…….no way—he **can’t** be my contact! **UGH** , are you fragging with me, Primus?!’ _ The Combaticon procurator thought to himself. He hadn’t seen any other Cybertronian since they got here, it probably meant the purple-and-black Seeker was indeed his contact for information. This was not going to be easy, but the fact the old Seeker had Mini-Cons with him maybe meant………he wasn’t as bad as he used to be? _Maybe?_ Swindle gave a soft little sigh, steeled himself, then walked over to the stall that the trio of mechs were looking. “ _Hotlink_ —long time no see,” the Combaticon laughed, warmly, putting on his best poker face.

“ _Ah_ , Swindle—I thought I recognized your brokering style in the messages, that’s why I came myself, rather than sent my staff,” the purple-and-black colored Seeker chuckled, his deep voice sounding warm and friendly.

_Well_. **_That_** was new. **_That_** was different. Hotlink used to be a jerk of the highest caliber, up there with Starscream. 

And “ _staff_ ”? Hotlink had “ _staff_ ”……… ** _what_** ………what was this Decepticon doing nowadays? Swindle had been looking for information on the Destron Army, but…….did this mean Hotlink was with the **_Destrons_** , now? That was “ _staff_ ”, Starscream always did do the “ _office worker_ ” mentality in his organizationals—war was a business like any other business. It was probably one reason Swindle got along better with Starscream than he had any other Decepticon. But, Hotlink was apparently still wearing his Decepticon brand, so………..

“Swindle, I can hear your gears of ultimate suspicion grinding all the way over here,” Hotlink laughed. “Come, bring your friend—we should talk somewhere a bit quieter and more insulated.”

Swindle nodded, sent a glyph to Dai Atlas, who joined him with a back-sling of his rug purchases between his wing-panels. The two from Chaar followed Hotlink and his two Mini-Con allies to a café that had private booths. Hotlink took them to a private booth, motioned for a server and then smiled over at the two Cybertronians.

Swindle knew _that smile_. It was a businessmech’s grin. He was guilty of using it himself. There was no doubt now that Hotlink was the information broker he was here to see. But how did Hotlink go from being a chaos causer like the other Seekers, to dealing in information?

“I have to say, this Rodimus Prime fellow has really been making a lot of progression in the universe—not just for Cybertronians, but it’s hard to go anywhere within the Galactic Alliance borders and **_not_** hear nice stuff about him,” Hotlink said as their drinks arrived.

_Energon mixers_. A modern convenience that some like Krok back on Chaar had begun experimenting with. Well, if anything, to make itself welcoming to _every species_ in the universe, Alfor-Two would have to make a move to catering towards Cybertronians. Dai Atlas wasn’t as hesitant to take a drink as Swindle was, but that could be his innate sense of boldness or his relative innocence of the universe at large. Swindle eventually took a sip and then set the glass back down and folded his servos atop the table, gazing directly at Hotlink.

“ _Yes, well_. The Prime has been a good thing for all of us, that’s not in question,” Swindle answered, smoothly. “What’s your game now, Hotlink—this was _not_ your thing back in the war?” He asked, very suspiciously.

That was when the twin Mini-Cons with him broke out into laughter.

“ _Swindle, I’m surprised_ —times change and so do mechs and femmes!” The purple-and-black Seeker laughed warmly. “Look, unless you had your specialty for Trines that benefitted Megatron in some way—you were a Seeker generally ignored. Hell, the Rainmakers were generally ignored on sheer principle. _I was a Seeker without a Trine_ , that made me even less of an interest to Megatron—even though I tried really hard to make him notice me,” he added. “Then some time after Megatron and the others chased Optimus Prime—and as I understand it, crashed on some dingy little organic mudball—I was wandering Cybertron and came across others that shared my interests in investigations.”

“So, you’ve been playing detective for like four million years?” Swindle asked, suspiciously.

“ _Why not?_ It’s turned out to be my _special talent_!” Hotlink chortled. “Even while there were still skirmishes on Cybertron and newmechs and newfemmes wound up choosing one side or another—it didn’t mean they were necessarily happy with their choices. I think now, with the ceasefire accords and this _‘new peace’_ the Autobots and Decepticons have, you’re seeing that it’s true that people would rather have something else to do than fight all the time.”

Swindle frowned. He couldn’t necessarily deny that. A lot of Autobots and Decepticons were finding themselves useful doing other things than being stuck and focused on near-daily combat and war. Plus, there were Decepticons who didn’t want to live on Chaar. There were Autobots who came to Chaar often enough that you questioned whether they were actually happy on Cybertron or Earth. Plus there were the many roaming the universe, maybe still wearing their brands or maybe choosing unaffiliation—doing odd jobs and whatever just to survive. Deszaras, Star Saber and Deadlock had been living like that for quite a long time—they all still wore their brands, but they lived together and didn’t feel like settling on Cybertron, Chaar or even going to Earth to settle down. They preferred to be out doing things and that was why they were well-suited to Rodimus Prime’s request of looking for lost kin out in the universe.

“All right, I’ll accept your oddball story, but what about the Mini-Cons with you?” Swindle asked, gazing at the two teal-and-sea green mechs.

“ _Battle Masters_ ,” one of them corrected, the small mech had a red visor kind of optical plating. “Though Vector Sigma created several larger groups to go out and look for specified Cybertronians in the universe—it still created a few small groups back on Cybertron. We were meant to assist in the war, after all.”

“But we never saw any of you………..?” Swindle asked with a deep frown. Having vocalizers that could speak modern Cybertronian meant they weren’t the general Mini-Con groups, only the Battle Masters had adaptive vocalizers.

“Some of us were there, but you probably didn’t even notice many of us in combat—after all, how many of you would be thrilled that **_your gun_** was speaking to you?” The other one, with the yellow visor optical plating laughed softly.

“I think he has a point there,” Dai Atlas chuckled with a soft grin down at Swindle. “If my sword started speaking to me one day, I think that I would have to question my mental balance.”

Swindle dropped his head down onto the table with a loud thunk. _Of course_. The Battle Masters existed and probably worked with groups of Autobots and groups of Decepticons back on Cybertron while Optimus Prime and Megatron were out on their fun little joyride, but why reveal themselves for what they were unless they really trusted their Cybertronian partner? Sixshot had said that Doubledealer told him how Mini-Cons had been used and abused more than trusted and cared for—that was why he’d created a haven for them on Feilan.

And if your alt mode was a weapon, **_that was_** just asking for use and abuse right there!

Battle Masters may not have revealed themselves unless they really trusted the Cybertronian they were partnering with. And it also followed that a Cybertronian who may have known about what— _WHOM_ —they were wielding, they may have kept it a secret to protect their Battle Master partner from being used and abused—or even dissected by someone like Shockwave!

“Are you all right, Swindle?” Dai Atlas asked, with concern toning his deep voice.

“Don’t worry, he’s just massively disappointed there’s something secret that he _didn’t_ know about,” Hotlink laughed warmly, folding his arms on the edge of the table and leaned forwards. “Look, Swindle…….this meeting is about securing a new contact source of information, right? And you do understand there are funds involved and I know you pretty well—after all, I remember what you looked like before Starscream did this to you.”

Swindle’s head shot up from the table and then he gave a little grunt of annoyance. He propped on arm up on the table and leaned the side of his helm against his servo, then drummed digits of his other servo on the edge of the table in front of him.

“Yeah, okay. We **_do_** need more information—as much as we can get. Starscream’s doing a good job of keeping everything under wraps until he’s ready for big assaults,” Swindle said, focusing back on the negotiations. “It’s a pain in the aft, because even though we’re still managing to push him back—we’re taking massive damage in the end. He’s getting some of the heavy hitters joining with him and we can’t really figure out why, except he’s gotta be offering them something _amazing_.”

“Think for a moment, Swindle—we just discussed that some of us weren’t exactly happy with the everyday lives of Autobots and Decepticons, right? There are those Cybertronians out in the universe who wanted to make their own paths and had their own desires, Starscream’s catering to those,” Hotlink responded, carefully. “Though, I’ll admit—Overlord joining them makes _absolutely no sense_. I can’t even figure _that one_ out. Overlord’s up to something and he must have seen an opportunity in what Starscream was offering in the Destron Army to get what he wants.”

Overlord was an opportunist, that was certain. But way back when, he had wanted complete control over the Decepticons—he felt he could have led them better than Megatron had. However, he could never defeat Megatron in combat—so, he could never win control of the Decepticons in the very classic method. If **_that_** was his desire still—it would mean he’d come up against Galvatron, who was even stronger than Megatron had been.

Plus, at this point, the Decepticons were becoming satisfied with everything they were benefitting from with the ceasefire accords—there was no way they’d submit to Overlord suddenly becoming their new leader!

“What you want is the location of Starscream’s homebase—and I can give you that,” Hotlink said, very quietly and very seriously. “However, there’s great risk in this. Therefore, it’s **_not_** going to be cheap and I can tell you right now— ** _you_** can’t afford to give it to me, Swindle.”

“ _Great._ So, then, what was the point of this meeting if you’re saying I can’t even negotiate down the price to something achievable?” Swindle grumbled, softly.

“I want you to take the price back to Galvatron and Rodimus Prime,” the purple-and-black Seeker said, keeping his optics locked with Swindle’s. “Together they can meet that price and give me and my staff asylum if I need it.”

Swindle looked over at Hotlink with surprise evident on his faceplate.

“He has a point, Swindle,” Dai Atlas said, quietly. “This particular tidbit of information can change everything—and we all know Starscream’s gone to massive pains to keep the location of his homebase secret. If it gets out, Hotlink and his friends are as good as dead.”

All of the sudden, that made Swindle look around. Simply discussing this right now, out in public, probably put _all of them_ in danger.

“Don’t worry, Nautica’s got this café secured,” Hotlink said. “She’s good at her job. And Starscream’s spies aren’t here right now.”

Swindle exvented a deep sigh.

“Just convey to your leaders what my terms are—then we’ll meet again,” Hotlink said, rising from the booth and nodded at his two Battle Master companions. “Let’s go, Heartburn……..Heatstroke.”

The three mechs left the café and Swindle grumbled, but he knew he had **_something_** here. **_Something so very important that it could turn the tide of this conflict with Starscream and his Destron Army_**. And he’d tell Cyclonus first, because Galvatron would rage and blast him and ask why he hadn’t tortured the information out of Hotlink. Swindle really didn’t want to deal with **_that_** right now. Cyclonus would set up a discussion time with Rodimus Prime—then the command staff of the Autobots and the Decepticons would both determine whether Hotlink’s price could be met.


	2. Uncertain Oddities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galvatron throws a tantrum and Trypticon offers up a big surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some newly colored art:
> 
> https://www.weasyl.com/~keirajo/submissions/1918593/destron-command-chain  
> https://www.weasyl.com/~keirajo/submissions/1918937/sub-cast-characters-leozak-and-quake  
> https://www.weasyl.com/~keirajo/submissions/1923214/sharkticon-rumble

_ Chapter Two: Uncertain Oddities _

Kicker slid his motorcycle to a stop outside of Metroplex, kicking up a large dirt cloud. He’d heard that Rodimus Prime was here on Earth for some big meeting thing and he wanted to talk with Rodimus— _and Stormbreaker, too, of course_ —about something. He’d had a strange dream recently and woke up from it with his hair floating about his head, pure glowing golden—meaning something was definitely up and he didn’t think that dream was just a normal, everyday human dream.

“Hey Metroplex, can I come in? Visit and all of that?” The human teenager asked, taking off his helmet and waving a gloved hand in front of the large door, knowing there was an optical sensor nearby. “Is it okay to leave my bike out here, too?” He asked as a soft rumble echoed in the area, which he recognized as a general greeting or basic acknowledgement of presence from the city-mech.

“You may. I am certain none will bother trying to take it from this area, but make sure you enable your security on it,” Metroplex finally responded with some verbal words in his very deep voice, as he opened the main door.

“ _I will! Thanks a bunch, Metroplex!_ ” The sixteen-year-old human laughed as he tucked his helmet under an arm and dashed inside the Autobot City, after clicking a button on a remote and his motorcycle made a beeping sound. He followed his senses and his base EM field to find Rodimus Prime’s familiar one.

Of course, he came to a locked room—which meant a private meeting was in session. The boy frowned and then pivoted around, letting his senses seek his second most familiar EM field, Stormbreaker’s. He followed the feeling of her EM field until he came to Metroplex’s “ _entertainment room_ ”. Slipstream and the three Mini-Cons were in the room with her—it looked like Stormbreaker and the Mini-Cons were playing a game, it was probably _Tradewinds_ if Kicker had to guess.

“ _Kicker!_ ” Stormbreaker squealed, hopping to her pedes and running over to the teenage boy. “ _Tee-hee……..you look so formal!_ ” The femmeling giggled, grinning at him.

“Oh, **_this_**. It’s my school uniform—I came here right after school. Called my grandparents to let ‘em know I came out to Metroplex for a visit,” Kicker chuckled. He started to unbutton his school jacket and loosened the neckline on the white shirt beneath. “Do you know how long Rodimus’ meeting will last?” He asked, looking over at Slipstream.

“Not really. An old Seeker has some vital information and there’s been a lot of debate about it for the past week,” the female Decepticon responded, not giving out any vital details. “Rodimus needed to get away from Lord Galvatron’s views on it right now—since he feels _all Decepticons_ are obligated to turn over information **_for free_**.”

Kicker laughed softly, covering his mouth with a gloved hand. Galvatron probably would’ve felt that way if it were an Autobot, and Earthling or some other alien species—it likely wasn’t necessarily because it was a Decepticon, but being a Decepticon probably made Galvatron angrier. Then he walked over to the table where the Mini-Cons and Stormbreaker were sitting.

“Sorry, didn’t bring my _Tradewinds_ deck with me today,” Kicker answered when Skyboom warbled with a curious tone at him. He climbed up into an empty chair at the table and Stormbreaker reclaimed her seat.

_Tradewinds_ was an Earth-created TCG game, kinda-sorta loosely based on Japan’s “ _giant mecha and pilot_ ” genre of anime, manga and games. Kicker had introduced it to Stormbreaker and the Mini-Cons about a year ago when they were visiting Earth—he’d been playing it with some of his classmates at school for a couple years now. You basically built a strategic team of mecha and pilots (five mecha and five pilots), had cards for attacking and upgrades and such stuff. Rodimus Prime had watched Kicker teach his femmeling and the Mini-Cons how to play with mild amusement and curious interest—he found it surprising at how human kids struggled with school, yet a strange card game could teach them incredible patience and strategy.

Now, the four Cybertronians found it to be lots of fun—they spent a lot of money to buy a ton of boxes while on Earth and they all built their favorite decks, sharing cards with each other or swapping when they felt like it. Kicker would notify them when there were new expansions and they’d all beg Rodimus to let them buy a crate of more boxes of the new expansions.

Scattor warbled cheerfully and brought a box up to the table, they were likely his favored constructed decks. The little mech pointed at the contents of the box and Kicker laughed as he realized the Mini-Con was offering to let the teenager borrow a deck to play with them. The teenager looked at the various color coded deck boxes inside, they had Cybertronian written on them and he didn’t know what they meant, so he would pick up a deck and look at a couple cards in it to try and get an idea of the strategy of the deck. He eventually chose one and the four Cybertronians all collected up their cards and started a new game. The nice thing about _Tradewinds_ was, you could play with up to six people—the more people involved, the longer games sometimes took, but a lot more strategy was involved. You could team up or just attack everyone.

“Slipstream—let me know when Rodimus is free, okay? I’ve got something important to tell him about. Well, **_I_** think it’s important, anyways,” Kicker said, looking over his shoulder at the teal-and-purple femme.

Slipstream nodded, then she sent a glyph to Rodimus Prime—saying that Kicker was here and needed to see him when he was free. He sent back a message saying that he’d talk with the boy as soon as his meeting was done, which the Decepticon femme relayed to the human teenager. Then she watched as Kicker, the Mini-Cons and Stormbreaker all played the TCG they were all into.

After about an hour, Kicker ate the snacks he had in his backpack and they all finished a game of _Tradewinds_ (Stormbreaker won and shared an alliance win with Wreckage)—that was when Rodimus finally joined them all in the lounge area.

“ _Mmmmm_ , I gotta talk to ya in private, Rodimus—I mean, this info’s kinda weird and a little scary,” Kicker said, standing before the young Autobot Leader as his hair floated a little at the nape of his neck and in his bangs, slightly glowing golden.

“Let’s take a drive, then—we’ll put your bike in my trailer and I’ll drive you back to your grandparents’ place,” the flame-colored mech answered. “I don’t want them worrying about you if you wound up being here overnight. Plus, you have school again tomorrow—you’ll need proper bathing and sleep and fresh clothing. You don’t want to wear that uniform two days in a row, right?”

“ _Yeah, yeah……… **I know**. ‘Bye Stormy, ‘bye guys!_” The teenage boy said, turning back to the femmeling, the Mini-Cons and Slipstream.

“ _’Night, Kicker!_ Come back and play this weekend, ‘kay?” Stormbreaker asked, grinning happily at her human friend as she waved at him. The Mini-Cons all warbled their farewells and Slipstream nodded politely at the boy as he walked out of room with Rodimus Prime.

Once outside, the flame-colored mech transformed into his alt mode and opened up the rear hatch of his trailer, so Kicker could push his motorcycle into it. Then the teenage boy climbed into the passenger seat and snickered softly at the driving hologram.

“You’d better get used to it, because I’m not breaking the rules while here on Earth, kiddo,” Rodimus said, drolly, as the holographic image tilted its head in the human teenager’s direction. He drove to a parking spot near a campground area and parked in the most isolated spot that he could. “Now, what’s up?”

“I had a really awful dream last night, that normally wouldn’t bother me, except my anticipation engine was in overdrive. _I thought my hair would burn up_ ,” the young man grumbled softly, propping his elbow against the door frame near him and leaning his head against it. “It’s never been **_that bad_** , not even when I’m around Galvatron—I don’t think it was just a dream.”

“Tell me about your dream, then, Kicker,” Rodimus said, powering down his holographic driver image and focusing his dashboard camera optic on the boy.

Kicker described something very nightmarish and it made Rodimus Prime think of all the information he’d gotten about “ _the Darkest One_ ”. It wasn’t just that, but Kicker saw in his dream **_specific_** Transformers—mostly Decepticons. A few of the descriptions he recognized, but recorded all the descriptions to give to Magnus or Optimus to see if they could confirm others he wasn’t sure about. The one that disturbed him the most was probably the description of **_Bludgeon_** —who was supposedly dead. _A LONG TIME AGO_. There wasn’t really a way Rodimus Prime couldn’t **_NOT_** know about Bludgeon, because he was a legendary Decepticon who long ago challenged Megatron before _The Ark_ and _The Nemesis_ left Cybertron. It was a famous battle that everyone knew about or had heard stories about, except maybe true newmechs like the Terrorcons, as well as Rodimus’ own children.

But just **_where_** did Bludgeon fit into all of this? That particular Decepticon wanted to rule over all the Decepticons, so there was absolutely _no way_ he was involved with Starscream—who clearly demanded the rule over all of his troops. **_Plus, there was the fact that he was supposed to definitely be dead._** That kind of made one wonder just how he could be alive enough to take part in this upcoming epic event that was going to happen.

“Kicker, what is your weekend schedule like?” Rodimus asked, curiously. “Would you like to go with me to Dinobot Island? It was a local feature in your dream, so maybe unlocking more of the hidden meaning of your dream would happen if I took you there?”

“Why do you gotta go there?” The boy asked, a bit puzzled. He knew vaguely of Dinobot Island, because Daniel had mentioned it once—when he was talking about Grimlock and the Dinobots. Unlike most little boys, he didn’t care much about dinosaurs—he was always more of a bug fan.

“Well, I promised to go look in on Trypticon—she’s been in recovery there for many years now,” the flame-colored mech answered softly. “We think we might have a solution to her problem, but she’s been getting extremely testy lately. Galvatron couldn’t possibly be empathic enough to talk properly to her, so I thought I’d go do it instead.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll go with you—not sure what good I’ll do there, but if I recognize something, maybe it’ll help,” the teenage boy answered, as he shrugged and sat up straight in the passenger seat. “If not, I suppose it’s a field trip somewhere new.”

Rodimus started his engines back up and booted up his driving hologram again.

“You’re taking a doctor with you, right? If Trypticon’s not doing well, you should probably have First Aid or Minerva there, right?” Kicker asked as Rodimus pulled up into the driveway of the boy’s grandparent’s house.

“Yes, Minerva is coming with me—it would be ideal to have Hook or Bonecrusher, since the Constructicons are familiar with her systems, but Minerva’s had a wider variety of experience in medical treatments for many races. Maybe what’s bothering Trypticon isn’t a usual Transformer issue,” the young Autobot Leader responded, the holographic image making a cursory glance at Kicker through the intuitive programming. “I hope the rest of your school week goes well, pack a bag and I’ll pick you up on Friday after school.”

“I’ll be ready,” Kicker said, grinning as he hopped out of the Autobot’s passenger seating and then got his motorcycle out of Rodimus’ trailer portion. After saying good night and watching Kicker lock his motorcycle in the garage, then the flame-colored mech drove off, back to Metroplex.

* * * * *

Galvatron paced his throne room, clearly agitated by all the news that had been gathered up recently. He had absolutely no idea who this Bludgeon fellow was—but he was never taking command of the Decepticons **_EVER_**. Cyclonus was reading the historical data to him and he was listening intently, but he was growing extremely annoyed as he listened to it.

“Does he think he is the greatest Decepticon who ever lived? What is his issue?” Galvatron growled softly.

“Though this Bludgeon’s origins are shady and clouded, it is likely clear he came online during the last Golden Age—during the time of the old Senate and before Megatron rose up. He may likely have some of the aesthetics of the era, so he may likely see the purpose of the Decepticons in a much different light than Megatron had,” Cyclonus reported, glancing down at Novablaze beside him, who was standing quietly and patiently.

“So, he is an _oldmech_. I have the advantage of youth on my side,” Galvatron grumbled.

Cyclonus and Novablaze looked at each other and the younger mech shrugged.

Galvatron was “ _new_ ”, but he wasn’t “ _young_ ”—he was built from Megatron’s frame, which was well over 4 million years old! He usually never brought “ _age_ ” into play—often preferring the fact that he was older than Rodimus Prime in order to boss his Autobot lover around.

“Sire—if this Bludgeon is as dangerous as history claims he is, I’m not sure we should overlook that, you know?” Novablaze said, raising a servo and feeling a bit hesitant about making his sire focus on a potentially dire situation—and possibly yelling at him. But it would be what his carrier would do, so he’d get his sire to focus and plan accordingly.

Galvatron stopped pacing and glared in the direction of his Second-in-Command and his offspring.

“I understand _that_ , but all reports also claim he is long since dead! How is it that we are to search for a dead oldmech?” The purple-and-grey Decepticon barked sharply.

Novablaze reached up to rub the back of his neck anxiously.

“I am not certain that the Prime expects us to look for deceased Decepticons,” Cyclonus said, speaking up for the both of them, aware of Novablaze’s nervousness. “I believe he forwarded the human boy’s vision as a warning to be aware of this Bludgeon and to learn about him, should we eventually encounter him.”

“Why must he be so confusing, then? What is it does he want me to do?!” Galvatron roared, clenching his fists with frustration.

_‘It’s only **you** that makes it confusing, sire,’_ Novablaze thought, shaking his head.

_‘My lord, **you** are the only one making confusion of this,’_ Cyclonus thought, shaking his head as well.

“If you want, **_I_** can tell you about Bludgeon,” a new and vaguely familiar voice said, as a blue-and-red mech leaned against the doorframe entryway into the throne room.

“ _Hi, Star Saber!_ ” Novablaze called in greeting with a grin, recognizing the old Autobot warrior outside of his armour. “You know who we’re talking about?” He asked, curiously, as the Autobot walked over to where the two were standing—far enough away from the pacing Emperor of the Decepticons.

“ _Yeah_. I met him once, but his legend was everywhere when I was a newmech and before I was sent out to the frontier,” Star Saber replied, chuckling softly. “Megatron had recently come to power—he was created to be the ultimate tyrant and to take over Cybertron by those who were unhappy with the Senate in those declining years of the Golden Age. It was more or less postulated that a strong, singular guiding force on the planet could put it back on the right path……..I’m not certain they knew what they were getting with Megatron, though.”

“It is not incorrect in theory, but clearly it was not planned out as well as it should have been,” Cyclonus said with a light huff of distaste.

“Those things never are,” the Autobot said with a soft sigh as he shook his head. “Bludgeon was one of the…….. _Paladin Guards_.”

“What’s that?” Novablaze asked curiously.

“The Paladin Guard were the Senate’s ultimate security force—Cybertron’s cities all had their own individual police forces, but the Paladin Guard belonged to the Senate and had the ultimate in power and force, with the authority to override any local security force,” the red-and-blue mech responded. “Des was a member of the Paladin Guard, too.”

“ ** _Woooooooow!!!_** ” Novablaze gasped in awe, clenching his servos with excitement.

“So, Captain Deszaras has been around since the Golden Age?” Galvatron asked with mild interest, stopping his pacing to look at the small group standing far from him.

“ _Yeah_. He’s had a couple frame rebuilds, because of his age,” Star Saber chuckled. “Not like I haven’t, either,” he added, waving a servo dismissively. “Bludgeon was an unsurpassed warrior— _skilled in all levels of combat_. The only reason he was defeated by Megatron was that Megatron had cheated, because all Megatron had was **_ferocity_** —he had no such thing as a warrior’s skill.”

Galvatron frowned. He was aware of having been Megatron long ago, but only by others having told him so and a few hazy memories, but to realize his past self was underhanded and did not truly fight his own battles, it made the Emperor of the Decepticons despise his past self even more than he already did. Galvatron was proud of his power and his battle skills, **_he_** would never cheat in combat—not even to try and defeat his precious Rodimus Prime, no matter how much he did not like losing to his flame-colored lover.

“While historical documents claim that Bludgeon died from wounds sustained in that combat with Megatron—and a supposed body was produced—there are theories that the Decepticons could not find Bludgeon’s real body and produced a body double to claim the fiction of his defeat and death at Megatron’s servos,” Star Saber explained, placing his servos on his hips and looking at Galvatron.

“So, you are saying that this Bludgeon fellow has been alive all along? Then why has he not shown himself in all these millennia?” Galvatron growled, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning deeply.

“That’s the question, isn’t it? _Why hasn’t he?_ ” The red-and-blue mech responded, shaking his head and frowning. “Maybe he’s really dead and it was merely a story for others to hope that this fabled warrior was still alive? History has a way of skewing the truth—I think Rodimus Prime can assure you of that.”

“ ** _You are making this even more confusing!!!_** ” Galvatron roared, aiming his nova cannon over in Star Saber’s direction.

“Think about this—if Bludgeon were dead, then why is Kicker seeing him in a dream that coincides with a bunch of other things we **_do_** know are true?” The old Autobot warrior responded, grinning at Galvatron. “I think it’s highly likely that Bludgeon is alive after all. However, _why_ would he appear now?”

“ _Ummm_ ……….maybe it’s because of this Darkest One stuff and Cybertron maybe getting revitalized?” Novablaze said, raising his servo to talk to the adults around him. “We don’t know **_when_** it is going to happen, but if Kicker’s involved—it’s likely within the next decade or so, he’s only a human and his prime of life is just a few decades. Plus, cari says Vector Sigma keeps using a timetable of _‘within the decade’_.”

“Would this Bludgeon want to try and take command entirely, should we face the Destron Army and win this coming grand war?” Cyclonus inquired, glancing over at Star Saber.

“That is exactly what I think, to be honest,” the old Autobot Warrior chuckled. “He’s waiting to make his grand entrance and take control over it all—let the Autobots and Decepticons do all the hard work and swoop in to take all the glory!”

“ ** _I will eliminate this mech for all his grand folly!!!_** ” Galvatron roared, furiously.

* * * * *

“Look there, Rodimus—look at the left side of her armour there,” Minerva said, quietly, pointing towards Trypticon.

Kicker looked through his binoculars, even as Rodimus Prime lowered his multi-scanning visor over his optics. The human boy was puzzled, but it looked like Trypticon’s armour was damaged somehow. Rodimus made a soft murmuring sound and said something in Cybertronian, that Kicker certainly didn’t understand.

“She was clawing at it—and it looks like she had been doing so for quite a long time, but now it looks like its in the stages of healing,” Minerva responded, bringing up a datapad and inputting some data in it from the observations. “I think she might have had some kind of growth that was irritating her on her derma, possibly.”

Kicker gave a snort. “Seriously, can you guys get infections on your skin like that?” He asked, moving his view around the area. “ ** _Um_**. _What’s **that**?_ I mean it kind of looks like a weird nest,” the boy said as his gaze found something odd within a mile range of Trypticon’s area. He pointed in the direction and Rodimus turned his scanner gaze in that direction.

“ ** _Wait_** _. Is that…….?_ ” The flame-colored mech murmured. Then a flash came to him—Metroplex had three mechs that “ _had always been with him_ ”, as the city-mech said. Though Six-Gun, Slammer and Scamper never actually appeared until Metroplex had come to Earth and settled down. When Rodimus asked Vector Sigma about them, it merely said they were part of Metroplex and had always been there.

Did Trypticon have “ _assistants_ ” like that, too? They’d never seen that she’d had any, however…….but maybe they hadn’t been “ _born_ ” yet, but they’d still been part of her frame for a long time. Did she have to tear them out of her body? Was that what Metroplex had to do with Slammer, Scamper and Six-Gun?

“You told me that you and Perceptor had begun to theorize that the titan mechs had come out of the Primal Chamber in smaller forms and grew. As they grew, they likely needed some sort of assistants to care for their frame,” Minerva said, softly. “It likely means they had the coding to use some of their own personal source material to create their assistants.”

“Then this may be why Trypticon has been _‘unwell’_ for all of these years—tired and lethargic and preferring to stay here in the quiet atmosphere of Dinobot Island,” Rodimus said. Mother organisms, regardless of species, wanted peace and quiet when they were going to birth their offspring. Hence why Rodimus preferred being on Chaar for both of his childrens’ births—Galvatron would make sure nobody would bother him if he wanted peace and quiet.

It had shortly been after the ceasefire accords had been signed. Hook had told Rodimus Prime that Trypticon was testy and cranky and she needed some peace and quiet for a while, for some sort of healing—the Autobot Leader had offered the use of Dinobot Island. The Dinobots, themselves, had stayed on Cybertron more often anymore—so Grimlock and the others certainly wouldn’t bother Trypticon and the native dinosaur species would likely steer very clear of the titan femme. That was also when they had come to realize Trypticon was a femme. Now it had been about a decade and finally they were about to get their answers.

“Let’s go check—and hopefully not rile Trypticon up,” Rodimus said, transforming into his alt mode and letting Kicker sit in the driver’s seat this time—on the island, there was no need to follow the United States’ rules of Transformers requiring a driver or pilot hologram when travelling in their alt modes.

Minerva transformed into her ambulance alt mode and drove alongside the young Autobot Leader, towards the strange nest they’d seen within Trypticon’s general area.

As they got closer to the dinosaur-like titan femme, Rodimus Prime called out a greeting to her. She grumbled and growled a little bit, but greeted them in her deep voice. Then she let out a screech of a weird sort when she saw how close they were to her strange little nest.

“ _Away! Away from **babies**! **MINE**!!!_” Trypticon roared, leaning down to make her threat louder to the ground-bound Autobots far below her.

Kicker hopped out, to let Rodimus transform into his primary mode, even as Minerva did so. The flame-colored mech held up his servos, peaceably.

“ _Trypticon—I came to check on you! We’ve been worried at how long it’s been taking you to heal!_ ” Rodimus shouted up at her. “ _If you’ve got babies—you should let a medic look at them for you! Minerva’s a medic! **Trust me, I know! I’ve had babies before!**_ ”

Kicker’s hair went wild beneath his helmet. It wasn’t just Trypticon’s massive EM field—Kicker was used to Metroplex’s EM field by now, over the years. He knocked a fist lightly against Rodimus Prime’s knee-joint.

“ ** _Hey_**. Someone’s been here, Rodimus— _that’s_ why she’s upset,” Kicker said, when the flame-colored mech looked down at him. “Is this kinda like my dream? Maybe someone was trying to steal Trypticon’s……. _errr, um…….. **babies**_?”

Rodimus Prime tilted his head thoughtfully.

“ _Trypticon! Has someone been here?!_ ” The flame-colored mech yelled, looking back up at the massive titan femme.

Trypticon let out a furious roar. Rodimus sighed—Kicker was _right_ , somebody **_had_** been here. And they were messing with Trypticon’s maternal instincts towards her newmechs in the nest.

“ _I need to see your babies, Trypticon! Let us see your babies and make sure they’re okay!_ ” He called, sharply.

Trypticon made a strange, worried, humming noise. “They no take, but get too close,” she pouted in her deep, masculine-sounding voice. “ _No like how close they get!_ ” She snorted, angrily, sweeping her tail in the area around the nest, to enclose Rodimus and the others in so they couldn’t possibly think of trying to “ _take the babies and run_ ”.

Though, honestly, it’d take a gestalt ( _at least!_ ) to even think of carrying off the full-grown triplets in the nest. Much like Metroplex’s own “ _offspring_ ”, they were mixed in their forms—it seemed two of them had “ _primary_ ” or “ _robot_ ” modes, one was regulated towards a singular vehicle mode. The two robot mode mechs (likely, by the frame design?) were recharging, but the vehicle was……..

“Is that weird-looking car-thing actually **_growling_** at us?” Kicker asked, planting his hands on his hips and looking down at the nest.

“He probably has the same instinct of ferocity as Trypticon,” Minerva responded, hopping down into the nest and earning a legitimately larger and deeper growl from Trypticon hovering above them. “He has the look of a patrol vehicle and that would make him a bit fiercer. Do the babies have names, Trypticon?” The medic femme asked, looking up at the large dinosaur-looking femme, using the simpler language that the titan femme probably understood better than complicated Cybertronian words of “ _sparklings_ ” and “ _designations_ ”. Trypticon seemed to speak more in Earth languages than in Cybertronian, only a rare bit of Cybertronian here and there—English seemed a very easy language for her to speak.

“ ** _Brunt_** ,” she grumbled, leaning her massive head down in the nest to rub the tip of her snout against the vehicle-mech. “Brunt different. _Complex_ ,” the titan femme added with a low purring rumble as the vehicle-mech butted up against her snout.

Minerva knelt and started examining the purple vehicle-mech that Trypticon called Brunt. Then she chuckled as she understood what Trypticon meant by “ _complex_ ”. “Rodimus—Brunt is something similar to those calling themselves Battle Masters. His primary mode is this vehicle, but he appears to have an alt mode of armour or weapons,” she explained, lightly patting the hood of the odd-looking patrol vehicle-mech. He purred softly as she patted him.

That left the sleeping twins in the nest—they were both slightly smaller than the average-sized mech or femme of the Cybertronian species. So, a little bit shorter than Rodimus Prime when he was Hot Rod. One was dark purple and the other was dark blue—of which their frame designs had some slight similarities to them. Their chestblock and heads had different shapes to them—meaning their likely vehicular alt modes (if Rodimus were to judge by the fact they had tires on their frames) were a bit different from each other.

“What about these two? Do _they_ have names?” Kicker asked, standing up on a large outcropping of rock so he could actually look down into the nest and he pointed at the sleeping twins.

“ _Meh_ ,” Trypticon grumbled. “They not say yet. So don’t know.”

Rodimus placed one servo on his hip and rubbed his chin with the other. “Trypticon—how do you feel, now, since the babies have been born? Can Minerva look at the…….. _exit wound_?” He asked, not really knowing what to call the strange damage to armour and derma that appeared as if the titan femme had been clawing at it, even as he pointed to it on the dinosaur-like Cybertronian’s frame. “Have you been getting enough Energon from the processor on the island? Are the babies getting enough Energon from the processor?” He asked as he gazed up into her red optical visor.

There was a self-sufficient Energon processor on Dinobot Island. Wheeljack, Ratchet and Perceptor had built it a long time ago, so that when the Dinobots would come to the island, they were able to get properly processed Energon. It had a wireless command function and Trypticon was given a special request code, so she could get fuel when she needed it—as the Dinobots had been given when they were on the Island. The processor got the materials for Energon from several sources—wind, water and geothermal—so it was a completely efficient and sustainable source of energy. Even a large Cybertronian like Trypticon could get plenty of fuel from the processor—plus, she had ability to absorb some energy in her city-mode and process it, like Fortress Maximus and Metroplex could.

“ _Bah_ , Autobot ask many questions. _All fine_ ,” the titan femme grumbled softly, flexing her jaw and arms with boredness. “Birth spot fine, too. **_All fine_**.”

“Would you let Minerva look anyways, so she can assure Galvatron you’re doing okay with solid medical facts?” The young Autobot Leader said, sternly.

“Suppose,” the dinosaur-like femme grumbled some more and then stood still so that the Autobot medic could climb up onto the curve of her knee-joint and get up closer to the healing claw-like wounds on her lower chest and abdominal area. “Decepticons miss Trypticon?” She asked, turning her optical visor down towards where Rodimus Prime was standing in the nest.

“We could’ve used your help a few years back—Starscream’s around again and he’s got a titan mech,” Rodimus explained in as simplest of facts as he could, for Trypticon’s sake.

Trypticon sighed and waved her arms a little bit, still bored at standing around doing nothing. “Miss big fight. Am needed still?” She asked, curiously.

“Sure. When you’re ready to return to Chaar, of course. But maybe now that you have babies, you should return soon, so the other Decepticons can help protect them?” The flame-colored mech asked, waving his free hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Can go now, if want. Babies fine and can travel,” Trypticon responded.

“Well, I’m going to Chaar in a couple more days, why don’t you travel alongside my ship? We’ll go back to Chaar _together_ ,” Rodimus chuckled, his tone cheerful. “If you’re worried about the travel, the babies can be more comfortable on my ship.”

“That best for babies. _Need socializing_ ,” Trypticon said, a very strong tone of pride in her voice.

Kicker laughed softly. Rodimus Prime chuckled, fondly.

* * * * *

The trip to Chaar was, _thankfully_ , uneventful. Although travelling with a giant dinosaur beside his ship was impossible to hide from any spying eyes. So, it had to be assumed that Starscream would know that Trypticon had returned to the Decepticons on Chaar. As such, the former Decepticons’ Second-in-Command would likely readjust all of his upcoming strategies to factor in a titan back in the Decepticon army.

“I admit to being very pleased you have brought Trypticon home,” Galvatron purred, his lips rubbing against Rodimus Prime’s largest piece of neck-cabling.

“Well, I think it’ll take her a little while to adjust, I mean Chaar isn’t just a dirty mudball anymore, right?” The flame-colored mech chuckled, reaching back a servo to brush one of his older lover’s crown-tines. “But the ability for the titan Cybertronians to construct their own _‘offspring’_ is really rather interesting.”

Galvatron sighed and clasped his arms around his lover’s chestblock, leaning back into the pillows. He pulled his rival and lover back against him. “You and I are no longer the only ones,” the purple-and-grey mech said with a soft pout in his voice.

“Well, it’s _not the same_ , though,” Rodimus said, turning around and snuggling up against the Decepticon Leader’s broad chestplating. “Trypticon’s……… ** _babies_** ……….well, they don’t have the same makeup as we do. They don’t have true ignited Sparks, Minerva is calling it a _‘soft-booted Spark’_ —I think if we look at Metroplex’s assistants, we’ll find something similar.”

“How do they live if they have no Sparks?” Galvatron mumbled, not really understanding it at all.

“Think about it— _how are the Sweeps alive_? They don’t have ignited Sparks either—they’re a part of Scourge’s Spark. It’s the same for Trypticon and Metroplex—these assistants they’ve created from their own frames, their equivalent of a _‘Spark’_ is connected to their titan’s,” the flame-colored Autobot explained, drawing a lazy digit in circles on Galvatron’s chestplating.

“That means their lives are connected to hers,” the Emperor of the Decepticons said, thinking about it just a little bit. “Then we must ensure they have the protections that we can give them in the Decepticon Empire. However, I feel that little vehicle thing is a monster— _what is his issue_?” He grumbled, frowning. When he’d greeted Trypticon and her offspring—Brunt had taken an immediate annoyed stance against Galvatron, growling and ramming into his boots, until Trypticon picked him up and purred soothingly to the little vehicle-mech.

“You might actually appreciate this, _Brunt is a weapon_ ,” Rodimus Prime laughed, settling and leaning his head against one of Galvatron’s shoulder pillars. “The vehicle form is his primary mode—he transforms into some kind of weapon accessory, like the Battle Masters.”

“ _A weapon?_ That growling little car is **_a weapon_**?” Galvatron chortled, then tossed his head back and roared with laughter. “How does he work in his weapon form, then? Is he a rifle, like your ally—the grey-and-black one?”

“Good question. Minerva can only figure out that he **_can_** do it—however, until Brunt actually shows us what his weapon form is, all we can do is postulate,” the young Autobot Leader chuckled softly. “The other two have been fairly quiet so far, but I think they’ll open up now that they’re around their own kind—and by that I mean Decepticons—then we’ll learn what their names are and what positions they have as Trypticon’s _‘assistants’_.”

“Will they speak, as normal mechs do?” Galvatron murmured, stroking the sunbright yellow spoiler of his younger lover.

“I think so, now they’re going to be around a lot more people—so, they’ll learn more language here than if Trypticon had stayed with them on Dinobot Island any longer,” Rodimus answered. _‘Probably more language that it would’ve been better off for them **not** to know……..’_ he thought, but kept it to himself. “Hey, Galvatron—you know, I’ve been thinking about it a bit lately. I **_do_** want to have another sparkling, but I’m so wary of trying for it right now with everything going on. I guess seeing Trypticon and her new offspring made me long for it a little more though.”

“You know that I would be pleased to try at any time you desire it, but you are correct to be very wary of what may happen,” Galvatron murmured, softly. “We both know, by now, that it is a process that is lengthy and takes _both of our attention_ for the majority of a year. It is highly likely that Starscream will not sit back and allow us the freedom of a year to do such a thing. Especially once he knew you were sparked up— _he would become relentless against all of us_.” Then he leaned down and whispered the next statement into Rodimus Prime’s audial. “Even if Ultra Magnus assisted us—I still have great concern that Starscream would disrupt us and the sparkling would be underdeveloped in the end.”

Rodimus couldn’t help but laugh—Galvatron really harped upon the relationship thing that Rodimus had been working on with Magnus. There was probably a little bit of jealousy in the Decepticon Leader’s Spark over _that relationship_ , but he could not deny his younger lover the freedom to have other relationships and lovers— ** _he_** was not going to become such a hypocrite. He certainly wasn’t willing to give up his freedom to frag others just to be “ _correct_ ”.

“ _Now_. We’ve had a nice little rest, a relaxing little chat……..” Rodimus Prime began, shifting his frame and kneeling over Galvatron’s bulkier frame. “I’m ready for a few more rounds, my lord,” he laughed.

“Are you now?” The Decepticon Leader chuckled, sliding a servo along his lover’s abdominal area and down across the groinplating. His digits met soft, wet mesh and he pushed two digits in, lightly. “ _Mmmm_. It seems you are quite interested, but are you truly ready?” He added with a wolfish grin as soft little mewls erupted from his lover’s mouth. Rodimus rocked lightly against Galvatron’s servo, trying to get his older lover to push those digits deeper into him. Then the Emperor of the Decepticons pulled his digits out of the wet valve and slid them teasingly along the flame-colored mech’s mesh lips, drawing them up to rub against the hard nub of the anterior node.

“ _Come on_ ……..” Rodimus whined, butting his head up against Galvatron’s neck fairing. “ _Now you’re just being mean_ ………” he whimpered.

“You are the one who always wishes for me to use such foreplay,” the grey-and-purple mech teased. “It matters not—your valve would prefer my spike anyways, far more than it would enjoy my digits.”

“ _Then……….then gimme your spike………..my beloved Emperor_ ………..” the flame-colored mech panted.

“With pleasure,” Galvatron purred, grabbing Rodimus Prime by the hips, rolling them over and thrusting inside of his lover in a very swift move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in the G1 animation..........while we saw Metroplex's "assistants" show up once or twice in some episodes, we never did see Trypticon's. The TCG special card set for Trypticon calls Brunt, Wipe-Out and Full-Tilt as "minions"--Brunt shows up twice in the TCG, once as Trypticon's minion in the special set and then as a 2-card Weaponizer in the normal sets.
> 
> What I've decided to do, as I've done for the Targetmasters and Action Masters--I've decided to compromise between the G1 toy material and the TCG/newer toyline revamping. In the TCG and "Siege" line toy, Brunt as a Weaponizer has a robot mode--I've elected to leave him with a vehicle mode and use him as a Weaponizer as well. I also decided to have fun with the idea of a vehicle having a very distinct identity--and can you tell that Brunt is probably Trypticon's favorite? XD
> 
> This also comes with balancing out the G1 animation setup with the modernization of the Transformers franchise--terms we've all become accustomed to, such as Sparks and protoforms and all of this were non-existent in the 80's cartoon. Also, consider the fact that the Matrix of Leadership did not exist until the animated movie in 1986--I mean, really, all those times Wheeljack and Ratchet operated on Optimus Prime, we'd've all seen the Matrix in his chest if it existed......which is why I came up with the secret compartment thing from some stories back ("Burn Brightly"). So, in comparison to Vector Sigma's produced Transformers and the sparklings that those few with coding (like Rodimus and Galvatron) to do it have.........Trypticon and Metroplex's assistants/minions are treated somewhat like "cloning" and protoform production.


	3. Right Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus Prime and Galvatron have a fight (and then frag, as usual). Ultra Magnus has strong feelings, which get him in trouble and chided by two others. The bad guys plot (as usual). 
> 
> And an ancient gestalt is brought back to life!
> 
> It's the pivotal chapter of this epic, be sure to read and enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I've revealed the ancient gestalt (come on, you can't tell me you didn't see it coming! XD), have some chibi-doll art I made a little while back for it. Which includes the Symbol of Light in normal form and the chibi-doll form.
> 
> https://www.weasyl.com/~keirajo/submissions/1918363/torchbearers
> 
> Also, the title comes from a Van Halen song, as when I was writing this--that's when the news came that Eddie Van Halen passed away. Like many children of the 80's, I grew up with hair bands and Van Halen was pretty prevalent among those. Though..........I'm actually a Sammy Hagar era fan over David Lee Roth or the other guy. (I know, blasphemy! XD)

_ Chapter Three: Right Now _

Rodimus Prime took a crew of Autobots out immediately, as soon as they received Hotlink’s call for help. He’d relayed the message to Chaar, but Galvatron had at first argued that they wouldn’t be in this mess right now if he’d come to Chaar immediately and surrendered his information. The young Autobot Leader was not going to get into an argument with his Decepticon lover right now—Galvatron could come and fight if he felt like it.

“Overlord’s in the mix, Magnus—he needs to be targeted and taken out now,” Rodimus snapped, standing back-to-back with his Second-in-Command on the planetoid R-99, where Hotlink’s base was.

“I’ll do what I can, but I’m aware of my limitations against a mech like that, as well,” the red-blue-white mech responded, pushing away and transforming into his alt mode, to roll out at top speed into the fray.

Rodimus _really_ wished Galvatron had come, though—Galvatron could stand against Overlord, despite their slight size and bulk differences. And the powerful Decepticon Leader would relish a fight with a real challenge.

“Hotlink—how many are on your staff that we need to evacuate?” The flame-colored mech snapped as the purple-and-black Seeker mech took Magnus’ place at guarding his back, using his Battle Master partners in their alt modes to fire heavily into the Destrons attacking.

“Besides myself, just six here on the base. I’ve got five out in the field and sent them glyphs to standby for more orders later,” Hotlink responded, sharply.

“Sorry we didn’t have time for _pleasantries_ ,” Rodimus chuckled softly.

“We make our base mobile for these reasons—though I always thought it would be Galvatron one day sending the Decepticons out after me,” the purple-and-black mech laughed.

“Trust me, **_he’s an aft_** , but he could care less about you unless you flat out fought or betrayed him,” the flame-colored mech responded with a wry smile. “You were _non-existent_ until you decided not to turn your information over for free—then you were disliked, _severely_.”

The battle began to heat up and Ultra Magnus was beginning to get worn out by the power of Overlord, though he was determined not to give up until Rodimus Prime gave an all-clear and “ _retreat_ ” signal.

“You’re just as brave as your legends say, Ultra Magnus,” Overlord chuckled, deviously. “But I’m hardly even worn from this fight. I think I should stop playing around and end it for us both.” He raised one of his cybertonium rifles and began to charge it.

“ _Decepticons……….. **ATTACK**!!!!_” Galvatron roared, loosing a bolt of plasma from his nova cannon and separated the powerful Destron soldier from the Autobots’ Second-in-Command. He landed heavily in front of Ultra Magnus and faced Overlord, sneering up into the taller and bulkier mech’s faceplate. “You are the one they designate _‘Overlord’_ , are you not?” The powerful Decepticon Leader snapped, placing one servo on his hip and held the arm with his nova cannon loose at his side. “You held up well, Ultra Magnus—however, I shall continue your battle from here. _Go protect my Prime, as you are assigned to do with your very life!_ ” He snapped, glancing over his shoulder at the tall Autobot soldier.

“Always at the last minute, _honestly_ ,” Magnus muttered softly, stepping back rapidly and running back towards Rodimus Prime, with his rifle laying out a fan of shots before him, to clear the way of Destrons. “There really is _no predicting him_ , is there?” The mech said as he made a triad with Rodimus and Hotlink.

“ ** _Nope_**. But Nova may have guilted him into it—my mechling is a subtle little manipulator, that one,” Rodimus chuckled softly. “Storm’s the emotional manipulator and she’s _nowhere near subtle_!” He laughed warmly as Magnus gave a light grunt.

“We’re fairly done with evacuations, Nautica is telling me—we can retreat when you’re ready, Prime,” Hotlink said as he tilted his head to listen to a communique from his technical officer.

“ _Alright— **Autobots**! Retreat back to Sky Lynx!_” Rodimus called to everyone on the field, also sending a retreat glyph to everyone. “Galvatron, _cover us_ —I’ll let you go as all out as you want once we’re gone!” He called over to his lover and grinned at him.

“ _Appreciated, Prime!_ ” Galvatron called back, his focus still completely on Overlord. He dodged a couple blasts, hopping back easily in the planetoid’s lesser gravity.

Now all of his skills in fighting Rodimus Prime ( _or Hot Rod_ ) all these years would show—if he’d truly learned something about fighting a larger opponent than himself………that _wasn’t_ a gestalt with a splintered mind (such as Monstructor, with whom he’d fought with several times). Overlord would be an opponent with intelligence and skill—so, Galvatron would **_truly_** be tested with this fight! He noted the departure of Sky Lynx and grinned ferociously over at the blue-colored mech suddenly.

“Now I can— _as my Prime would say_ — ** _go wild_** ,” the purple-and-grey mech chortled, charging up his nova cannon as he propelled himself backwards, away from the taller blue-colored mech.

“I’d like to see you try to defeat me, Decepticon,” Overlord chuckled, propelling himself back as well and letting the gunports on his hips open up a volley of fire against the Decepticon Leader.

“Honestly, what **_is_** in it for you—to follow that ridiculous little bratling of a former Decepticon?” Galvatron snapped, weaving to dodge the chaotic hail of fire in his direction, then loosed his shot as Overlord’s laser volley had to hit a recharge cycle before firing again.

“ _Oh, trust me_ —I have a good reason for this path,” the blue-colored mech laughed. Overlord had to admit, Galvatron was a _serious fighter_. What he didn’t have in tactical, he had in brute strength—and plenty of confidence for anything. He brought up his two cybertonium rifles again and gave a spray of fire as his hip-gunports opened fire again.

Galvatron propelled himself into the air as he charged his nova cannon again, then fired the shot. He _knew_ he needed to get in close to the larger mech—to use the close-combat skills that his Prime had taught him, but it seemed that Overlord _wasn’t_ going to let that happen. The blue-colored mech was clearly a ranged fighter. He may be tall and bulky, and likely had some physical strength to boot, but it seemed he’d rather keep his opponents as far away from him as possible.

“Ah, I so rarely do this in combat anymore, _however_ —you will get to experience it right now,” Galvatron chuckled softly, he began to charge up his nova cannon once more and suddenly transformed into his heavy space cannon mode, landing with a loud thud into the surface of the planetoid and his tank treads sinking into the surface several inches with his weight. The moment his treads hit the surface, he fired his shot—made ten times more powerful in his cannon mode.

The unanticipated shot hit Overlord right in the abdomen and pierced a shallow hole into his interior. Purple-pink Energon-infused blood began to ooze and Overlord sent one of his cybertonium rifles back into its subspace pocket and slapped that servo heavily onto the wound. The blue-colored mech grunted and aimed his other cybertonium rifle at Galvatron’s cannon-form, holding his stance and glyphed a retreat order to his Destron troops.

As soon as they had all pulled back from combat with the Decepticons, Overlord sprinted for the command craft he had and the Destrons retreated.

**|They are gone, Prime. Go directly to Chaar, we will speak there.|**

**|All right, my Emperor. You aren’t injured are you?|**

**|Of course not. Do not be ridiculous.|**

**|Okay. See you on Chaar soon.|**

Back on Chaar, Galvatron and Cyclonus met Sky Lynx’s passengers on the landing area near the Autobot Embassy building. After Hotlink and his staff disembarked with their salvaged equipment, Sky Lynx took Ultra Magnus and the Autobot troops back to Cybertron. Rodimus Prime said he’d return to Cybertron later—after discussions were had.

“We would not be in this situation if you had simply come to Chaar to report your findings,” Galvatron snapped, his EM field in a bit of a tangle flowing primarily with annoyance.

“You’re not my leader, Galvatron. _Not yet, anyways_. Megatron ignored me and you ignored me until now, so you have no say in this at the moment,” Hotlink responded, planting his servos on his hips and glaring at Galvatron defiantly. “My staff and I are independent contractors and if you hadn’t dallied on negotiating for my information, we wouldn’t be in this mess at all.”

Galvatron grunted and folded his arms across his chest.

“Look—the whole mess has happened and at least you and your staff are still alive. You can stay here at the Autobot Embassy for a while until we figure out what to do with you and your staff,” Rodimus Prime interjected, moving quickly to stop a stupid pissing match from happening between the two Decepticons. More than anyone else, the young flame-colored mech knew how stubborn and prideful his Decepticon lover was. “Galvatron, _what’s done is done_ —now we just gotta figure out where to go from here.”

“ _Give me Starscream’s location or I will destroy you now!_ ” Galvatron roared, raising the arm with his nova cannon and showing actual patience was not one of his particular virtues.

“At this point, _I will_. However, it’s **_not_** going to be as easy as you think,” the purple-and-black Seeker said softly.

“ _It will be easier than easy, because I will put a bolt of plasma right through his Spark and end all of this!_ ” The Decepticon Leader howled.

“I can see who the ones I need to talk to are, right now,” Hotlink muttered. “ _Prime_ , Starscream has dug in on an organic world—and convinced the locals to revere them as _‘gods’_. I don’t believe I have to explain anything further to **_you_**.”

“ _Gah_ , I was afraid of something like that. I thought that was why we weren’t having any luck finding him,” Rodimus mumbled. “Cyclonus. Can you……. ** _uh_** , get him out of here? Hotlink and I will talk and then I can summarize it later for him.”

“ _Oh no, Prime—I am **not** leaving here until I get the GPS coordinates from this lowlife scum of a Decepticon! I am the **Emperor of the Decepticons** and I demand to know all that he knows!_” Galvatron snarled furiously, taking a step forwards.

Rodimus Prime was in front of his lover instantly and held his forearms in an unbreakable grip. “ _You are not going to go storming an organic world and destroy a species just to get at Starscream—I won’t let you!_ ” The flame-colored mech growled, locking optics with his former rival. “ _This takes a plan—it takes knowledge and preparation! Starscream will run if we go storming in!_ ” He snapped.

“ _Starscream will go running now that he knows we have the information!_ ” Galvatron yelled back, pushing hard against his younger lover. “ _He **knows** , because he sent his minions to go attack that planetoid!_”

“ _Yeah_. He probably **_does_** , but he also knows I’m not going to let you go storming an organic world,” Rodimus said, his voice quiet and threatening. “He won’t run right away—he knows he has time and he knows he has an entire world of hostages.”

“ ** _You will not be able to stop me!_** ” Galvatron thundered.

Rodimus Prime punched the powerful Decepticon Leader hard. Galvatron went flying backwards and bounced several times on the landing area, before landing in a crouched position. He growled fiercely and his red, glass-covered optics glowed brightly.

“ ** _Just watch me, you dumbaft!_** ” The flame-colored mech retorted, backing into a ready stance, because he knew it was going to be a fight now. “ ** _I am Rodimus Prime—and I am the protector of the weak!_** _I won’t let you go destroying things willy-nilly just because you can’t focus on the big picture!_ ” He yelled.

Galvatron grinned, rising to his pedes. Then he planted his servos on his hips and roared with laughter. “ _Ah—I am always pleased to see your fire, my Prime!_ ” The purple-and-grey mech laughed warmly. “Very well— ** _you_** will gather the information we need. I will trust you and your guess on what Starscream will do. _However, if you allow him to escape and bury himself somewhere else—you and I will have more than words to share with one another_ ,” he said, very seriously.

Then Galvatron turned on his pedes and made a motion to Cyclonus to follow him.

**|Hey, Cyclonus—be sure to save some for me later!|**

Cyclonus gave the merest of glimpses over his shoulder and raised a servo to make a dismissive wave at Rodimus Prime.

“ ** _That_** …….. _was very scary_ ,” Hotlink said, finally relaxing. He hadn’t realized he’d tensed up so much.

“Tell me about it,” Rodimus chuckled softly. “He **_does_** understand. _He’s just_ ……..well, he really hates Starscream— _and it’s my fault_. He didn’t like Starscream anyways, but when Starscream took me as I was sparked up with Storm—yeah, that was the end of mere dislike and the birth of absolute hatred.”

“Let’s talk, Rodimus Prime—I’m not trying to hide the information on purpose, but you do understand that we’ve got to make a living, right?” The purple-and-black Seeker said softly.

“ _Totally_ ,” the flame-colored mech chuckled. “I’ll make sure you guys are compensated properly—and, as I said, the Autobot Embassy can serve as your base for a while.”

* * * * *

“Stop fidgeting, it’s _not_ that deep,” Wind Sheer grunted sharply, slapping Overlord in the center of his chest.

“Galvatron got you, did he?” Starscream asked, loitering in the doorway of the medi-bay inside of Scorponok. “Surprised it’s not deeper.”

“I moved back at the same time he shot, it blunted the attack a bit—plus my armour,” Overlord sighed, still not feeling very happy at sitting still on the medical slab.

“ _I told you to stop fidgeting_ ,” the Destron chief medical officer snapped, banging his fist on the bulky mech’s chest again. “Galvatron’s got some serious power. This is **_not_** a normal plasma shot. He completely obliterated Overlord’s self-healing nanites in the area.”

Starscream looked down at his datapad. Then he sighed softly, he’d felt those blasts before. Only his speed and skill prevented any piercing shots like that, mostly his wounds from Galvatron’s nova cannon were superficial.

“According to our research data, Galvatron was buried in plasma pools on the planet Thrull—this would be fatal to a normal Cybertronian, I can only assume he survived because of Unicron’s unnatural rebuild of the frame,” the former Decepticon Second-in-Command responded, leaning against the edge of the doorframe. “I came to report that we’re going to have a strategy meeting in an hour. It’s certain that Hotlink will provide them the information that our base is here on Quar’tal, but Rodimus Prime would rather severely debilitate Galvatron than let him come here and set loose on the natives. We have a little bit of time.”

“It would be a shame to have to leave here—these little organics have been enjoyable hosts,” Overlord chuckled softly.

“Indeed,” Wind Sheer purred. The scientist and medic had thoroughly enjoyed studying ( _and dissecting!_ ) these organic natives.

“I’m of the mind to remain here, to be honest. It will be a hassle to Rodimus Prime to try and get any attacks on us without hurting the natives,” Starscream said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Can he stop **_Galvatron_** from doing it, though?” Wind Sheer inquired, glancing over at Starscream, then he glared up at Overlord. “ _Will you stop fidgeting? I’m going to gut you instead if you don’t quit it!_ ” He snapped.

“I can see a small-scale civil war if Rodimus tries to stop Galvatron,” the Destron Commander chuckled deviously. “They may be too busy fighting each other than to fight us. No, I don’t believe we have to worry about evacuating in a hurry, but I do believe we need to prepare ourselves for the possibly unexpected. And Galvatron is unpredictable, it’s entirely possible he may risk reigniting the entire war just to get at me—I underestimated him on how he’d accept Hot Rod and his newest sparkling after what I did, I can’t afford to do that again. So, we’ll work on contingency plans for all angles.”

“ _Got it_ ,” Wind Sheer responded.

Overlord merely nodded.

Then Starscream left the room and went down to Raj-ur-Malekk’s laboratory.

“Have you managed to ignite Attilla’s Spark yet?” The Destron Commander asked, peering over whatever passed for the Quintesson scientist’s “shoulders”.

“This really is difficult. I’m not certain why, but it must be because of the gestalt programming,” the Quintesson biologist sighed. “I’ve altered the others already, so the coding should fuse properly for all of them.”

What Raj-ur-Malekk did not say aloud was that it would not have come to all of this, if Starscream hadn’t cut loose Leozak. Not to mention that the gestalt would also need a new name, given Leozak’s loss. It hardly seemed fitting to call it “ _Liokaiser_ ”, when the LION was no longer the head of the gestalt. This new one, a femme by programming and design, was purple and black in color scheme, with some bits of bright green tiger-striping on her frame. Her assist mech was to be designed like a sabertooth tiger and be primarily used as chest armour, as all the strike force’s assist mechs were. Her alt mode would be a heavy tank, so she was not built like a slender femme—as Slipstream or Arcee were.

“Well, I hope we can get her online soon, because we may have guests in the near future,” Starscream muttered. “I don’t think Rodimus Prime will want to invade if he knows how deeply we are embedded with the natives. I don’t know what Galvatron will do, but I’m fairly certain the Autobot Leader will do his damnedest not to let Galvatron hurt the natives of Quar’tal.”

“You don’t trust Monstructor to handle things?” Raj-ur-Malekk asked, hovering away and sorting through tools on his workbench.

“It’s not that, it’s that we need to have the numbers to face a coalition of the Autobots and Decepticons,” Starscream sighed, softly.

“Numbers are unimportant if you can anticipate your enemy,” the Quintesson responded, drolly. “You **_must_** start discarding the obvious tactics— _they do not work for you_. Power, numbers—all of this can be counteracted with a good tactical plan.”

“ _I can’t predict Galvatron! I keep trying, but he keeps going against all of my predictions!_ ” Starscream wailed, getting upset at feeling like he was being picked on by his Quintesson ally.

“ _Don’t predict him_. It’s stressful and you have just said you can’t do it—so, _don’t do it_ ,” Raj-ur-Malekk responded, turning to face his partner-in-crime. “Deal with everything else and send someone strong to intercept Galvatron—don’t face him yourself if you aren’t ready for it.” Then the Quintesson biologist relaxed and folded his two large tentacles around his waist, in a gesture similar to most species crossing their arms over their chests. “You are losing sight of the goal, Starscream. You are focusing too much on Galvatron and the Decepticons. Unless your goal has changed?” He asked.

“ _No_ , I still want Cybertron,” Starscream pouted softly.

“Then **_stop_** focusing on Galvatron and the Decepticons. The goal is Cybertron, so your barriers are the Autobots. The Decepticons only enter into this equation because of Galvatron’s relationship with Rodimus Prime,” Raj-ur-Malekk said, seriously. “So, what does this tell you?”

“Drive a wedge between Rodimus Prime and Galvatron?” Starscream murmured.

“ _There it is_. This process saw a spark with Hotlink and his information—we noted that they argued and did not take that old Decepticon up on his offer right away.. Yes, that information may lead to Quar’tal and us, but as you’ve said—coming after us may strain the Autobot-Decepticon alliance,” the Quintesson continued with a light chuckle. “Now, to make that small crack wider. Rodimus Prime has begun a new relationship with his Second-in-Command—try to push the young Autobot Leader closer to that relationship and fray the bond with Galvatron even more.”

“But how do I do _that_? I’m not certain I can trust anyone else to infiltrate after Flamewar was captured,” the Destron Commander pouted with frustration.

“You always focus so much on _the obvious paths_. Your kind are intelligent and self-sufficient robots, if you didn’t have the adaptability you would be mere automatons,” the Quintesson chided. “It’s time to think in a non-linear style.”

“Are you **_really_** doing all of this—helping me, funding an army—just because you’re _bored_?” Starscream muttered, as he folded his arms over his chest and he shook his head in disbelief.

“ _Mostly_. You have allowed me to expand my knowledge, so that has also made our alliance worth it,” Raj-ur-Malekk chuckled. “There’s only one small thing I want and I’ll let you know when I’m ready to cash in on it.”

Starscream had to wonder what that was—and was it really that “ _small_ ” after all? Quintessons were a strange species, with such hidden motives and priorities. What if what Raj-ur-Malekk wanted was beyond Starscream’s ability to fulfill?

* * * * *

Fighting was pretty much foreplay for the Autobot Leader and Decepticon Leader. As usual, they took it to the hot, rocky third world in the system that held Chaar. The density of the surface made rocks and even the ground harder than normal and the lesser gravity allowed even Galvatron to move faster than on a standard-gravity world. Galvatron was getting better fighting against the flame-colored mech—which made Rodimus worry that he’d lose his lover’s interest one day.

What would he do if **_that_** happened? What would it signal to the alliance? Would Galvatron still want the benefits from the alliance, even if his greatest rival no longer held a challenge to him? He’d once pointed out to Rodimus (when he was Hot Rod and sparked up with Stormbreaker) how important their relationship and the alliance was to him and to the Decepticons. But Galvatron was known for his whims changing suddenly and abruptly.

And he really, **_badly_** , wanted to go after Starscream and was angry that Rodimus Prime was holding him back. That showed in the ferocity of their sparring today. He was letting loose with his anger and it made the fighting a lot more dangerous between them. The flame-colored mech _couldn’t_ afford to lose his focus— ** _not now!_** Unfortunately he was losing that focus, because when he started thinking about something, he couldn’t stop until he was a mess.

“ ** _Got you!_** ” Galvatron roared, pummeling into the flame-colored mech’s frame and slamming him yards away, back into a huge mass of rocky crags sticking up out of the ground.

Rodimus Prime’s spoiler dented badly on both sides as he hit and flipped and then fell to the ground with a heavy thud. His internal systems went through an immediate check and found no internal damage—it was all physical and superficial……….. _and mental_.

“ _Is that it?_ Are you done already?” Galvatron snapped, standing above his rival and lover and folding his arms across his chest.

Suddenly Rodimus whipped his arms up above him, covering his faceplate and the Decepticon Leader instantly recognized **_that_** as a sign that he was trying to hide tears. He gave a deep sigh and then squatted down next to the young Autobot Leader, making a couple swats at the forearms over his lover’s faceplate.

“What have I done to make you cry **_now_**? I am not aware I have upset you in any manner besides this business about Starscream and we have had this ongoing argument for years,” Galvatron pouted, trying (but not forcing) to get Rodimus Prime to lower his forearms from his faceplate.

“It’s all going to end. _I’m not going to see your amazing future._ **_We can’t_** …………we can’t make it happen!” Rodimus wailed softly, his sobs making his voice crack with static.

“ _My future?_ Prime, you **_cannot_** see into the future,” Galvatron chortled, settling down onto his aft and resting his arm with the nova cannon behind him, leaning back and relaxing. “Every choice we make today changes tomorrow. _Stop with this nonsense_.”

“ ** _But_** ………when we Spark-bonded, I saw **_it_**! _I saw your brilliant future!_ ” The flame-colored mech sobbed. “I really love you so much and I……… ** _I’m not_** ……….” he whimpered, still not lowering his arms, he ached too much and refused to let Galvatron see the tears staining his faceplate, even though the sound of his voice made the event obvious. “I’m not compatible with you after all………” he whispered, his voice very quiet and extremely full of sadness.

“I have no idea what it is you believe you saw. A Spark that contained a future—I saw no such thing inside of you, only a brilliant and blazing flame that I know you have always had burning within you,” Galvatron said, giving a soft huff of frustration knowing this will be an emotional rollercoaster of a conversation and those were **_never_** easy around his precious Prime. “ _It is all that you are_ —it is what I claimed as my treasure, your brilliant Spark. If blazing brightly into the future is your actual future, then I **_have_** seen your future, I suppose. But you have **_always_** burned brightly, only eclipsed by this darkness of your own emotions—and I have always tried to encourage you to blaze your brightest, my Prime.”

“ ** _If I_** ………if I no longer interest you……….do I still hold a place in your Spark, my Emperor?” Rodimus Prime murmured softly.

“Why do you feel you will someday turn off my interest in you? You keep harping on this so much,” the purple-and-grey mech sighed, placing his other arm out behind him and leaned back to let the harsh sun hit his faceplating, offlining his optics as he did so.

“ _You learn so fast_. You’re starting to beat me more often in our sparring……..one day, I’ll no longer have anything to surprise you with and to win any of our matches. It was part of the accords, _it was_ ………” the flame-colored mech mumbled, still keeping his forearms crossed over his faceplate.

“Then it has just been only **_I_** who believes the benefits of the accords have changed over the years?” Galvatron snapped. “You surely do not believe I have not noticed all of the benefits my Empire happens to reap from the length of peace from the ceasefire accords we signed? My Prime, I am aware of all the hard work you put into it— _and I_ ……? Perhaps I have not put the effort into it that you have, but Cyclonus makes me aware of how much this benefits me. _How it benefits my Decepticons_. And what life would be like if we did not have the ceasefire accords and the alliance with the Autobots, this he often reminds me of. Cyclonus may be frustrated at my choosing a bonding with you, but he knows just how much the Decepticon Empire has grown and flourished simply because you and I signed an agreement that you tempted me into with a Spark-bond, fighting and fragging,” he added with a soft laugh.

“ _I………just_ ……..” Rodimus Prime sobbed, still keeping his faceplate covered up.

“ ** _Rodimus Prime_** _. Stop this foolish self-pity_ ,” Galvatron said, sternly, aiming a swat with one servo at his younger lover’s faceplate. “Our lives may now be separated by distance and events, but that is the way it was at the start. You thrive on what you are doing now—I know how deeply you wish to connect the universe……..the Sparks of our kind and whatever passes for Sparks in the little fleshlings.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” the flame-colored mech murmured, softly.

“And, despite the fact I could care less about the fleshlings, I believe I understand why you wish for me to join this alliance of fleshlings in the universe,” Galvatron continued. “The Decepticons will have more options of freedom to move throughout the universe. We shall be able to trade the minerals and stones we do not need from our planets for items that my Decepticons have come to value and enjoy. We will be able to gather elements to enrich our stores of Energon and allow the others to create their fancy blends which are enjoyable to taste but are truly just a luxury added to Energon.”

“Then, _please_ , promise me you won’t go after Starscream on the planet he’s warped and holds hostage. _They don’t know what they’ve invited into their lives, Galvatron_ ,” Rodimus said, finally uncovering his tear-stained faceplate and sitting up straight.

“I have no desire to fight you on this thing, my Prime. I despise Starscream and wish to destroy him with my own servos, but if he hides behind others, I promise will not tear through their lives to get to him,” Galvatron responded very firmly. “Cyclonus tells me that if we rush to him, I may never be able to get to him anyways. _We must bring him to a battleground that we prepare_. And Starscream wants Cybertron more than anything.”

“So, Cybertron will be the battleground?” Rodimus said, looking over at the grey-and-purple mech, curiously. He knew that Galvatron hated to not be able to go straight after Starscream—it frustrated him more than anything, but he actually **_could_** hold himself back to see the big picture.

“I believe _that_ is inevitable. I do not believe there is a set future, but you claim that the Master Programmer has seen a great event focused on Cybertron—and _‘within the decade’_ is how it keeps expressing it to you,” the Decepticon Leader said, locking optics with his rival and lover. “That is our battle and within ten years is an acceptable time-frame for me. However, you know my patience has a time limit, but when you allow me to burn it off with a good fight like this—I can settle back down to normal,” he chuckled, fondly. “I have not injured you, today—have I, my Prime?” Galvatron asked, smiling over at the flame-colored mech.

“Just my spoiler’s kinda dented,” Rodimus answered softly, ducking his head a little shamefully.

“ ** _Pity_**. It is one of your finest features,” Galvatron chortled, shifting forwards. “However, let us continue this in a berth, my joints ache a little from all the exercise.”

Rodimus Prime threw his head back and laughed. “Let’s take a bath, too. _Man, I can totally feel that heated pool in your palace calling to me!_ ” He said, grinning excitedly.

Cyclonus had the palace evacuated and was in a huff when he dismissed everyone. Novablaze kind of just chuckled and told Cyclonus it was okay, before going back to the Embassy for the remainder of the day. Cyclonus took off towards the entertainment district and decided to at least drown his personal frustrations in a marathon of karaoke—and woe betide anyone who tried to take **_that moment_** from him today. That left Galvatron’s palace empty and waiting for Rodimus Prime and Galvatron to go at each other without trying to hold anything back at all.

“ _Mmm……my lord…….. **uhhhnnn**!!!_” Rodimus moaned as Galvatron bit in a line along his primary neck cable.

“My Prime, you must make it over to the berth this time. We cannot stop to frag every few meters from the bath to the berth,” Galvatron chortled, his deep voice warm and teasing.

“ _Then………for the love of Primus…….. **stop messing with me before we get there** ……..!_” The flame-colored mech panted as the Decepticon Leader’s clawed servos clutched firmly at his aft.

“ _Pfft_. You always desire me to have patience for things, yet you have so little patience when it comes to **_this_** ,” the grey-and-purple mech laughed. “Hip-panels—I shall get you to settle for the good stuff momentarily.”

Rodimus Prime nodded and opened his hip-panels, revealing his command panel ports. Galvatron plugged in and the flame-colored mech went weak against his lover, as the Emperor of the Decepticons’ familiar conquering program swept through his systems. Galvatron initiated cool-down cycles throughout Rodimus Prime’s frame, forcing the flame-colored mech to cycle-down his charge towards overload.

“ _That’s……….that’s **almost cruel** , my lord_……..” the younger mech pouted, but his brain was suddenly thinking clearer and he was ready for more foreplay to build up towards overload, fresh from a new starting point. “ _Umm_ ……..Galvatron—you know, I was thinking more about another sparkling. I’m worried about Starscream, but……….what if we mostly _hide it_? The first six months are pretty much just me purging a whole lot. The gestation tank forms and stuff gets collected into something that will generally become a frame, but the frame doesn’t grow until the second six months and………”

“And how will you hide that ridiculous sex drive of yours?” Galvatron teased, backing the flame-colored mech slowly towards the berth, their hip-ports still connected and the Decepticon Leader’s cords swaying lightly at their outer thighs.

“Like I haven’t been visiting you often enough recently and staying for longer than I need to anyways,” Rodimus Prime chuckled.

“I feel sorry for poor Ultra Magnus,” the grey-and-purple mech chortled, licking the flame-colored mech’s chin and issuing a light purr deep in his vocalizer. “Do you wear **_him_** out, as well, my Prime?” He chuckled, nipping gently on the ridge of Rodimus’ chin.

“ _Holy Primus……….he can’t actually believe I have **that much** energy!_” The young Autobot leader laughed warmly, his own purring evident in his vocalizer. “But we cuddle a whole lot more than we frag and **_that’s_** what I like getting from him. **_You_** _, I totally like having an all-night frag session with!_ ”

“Are you serious about the sparkling, Prime? Once we make that decision—we cannot turn back. I would not allow anyone, even yourself, to rip a newspark out of your chest and be rid of it— ** _it is mine_**!” Galvatron asked, pulling away and gazing into his younger lover’s brightly-glowing optics.

“ _Yeah……….no………. **yeah** ……….ummm_, maybe think about it a little bit more, I guess?” Rodimus Prime said, his voice low as he ducked his head to avoid his older lover’s intense gaze.

“Then it is **_not_** an activity we will perform tonight. You take this back to Cybertron. You speak with Ultra Magnus and your chief medical officer. They are the two who shall need to know if this is something you will pursue and they can be trusted to keep a secret until you begin to show physical signs of spark-up,” Galvatron responded, lowering his servos to sweep them through his hip-cables. “I know you desire life, Prime—this is part of what makes you such a treasure. When you are focused on life, _you blaze like a supernova_ —it is also why I dislike seeing you mired by the darkness of your own self-loathing. A mech like you should not have such thoughts, that way you can blaze as bright as you can and be the guide for all those who come after you.”

And just as soon as he said that, Galvatron raised his arms and pushed Rodimus Prime hard back into the berth. He grinned down at his younger lover and his red glass-covered optics glowed fiercely with his hunger.

“ _Now, then_ —I would appreciate you opening for me and showing me just how badly you want that all-night frag session!” Galvatron chortled, opening his spike panel and reaching down to stroke his deeply-ridged length teasingly.

Rodimus incycled deeply feeling a sudden pang of “ _want_ ” tighten his valve. He licked his lips with his glossa and spread his legs, opening all of his array paneling. He felt the pressurization of his spike and leaned his head back as he exvented a heavy moan.

“ _Lovely_ ,” the grey-and-purple mech chuckled as he leaned on the bed and moved forwards, to press his frame against the hot one of his younger lover. Galvatron lightly rocked his hips, which pressed the underside of his spike against damp mesh valve-lips. The Decepticon Leader purred with pleasure as he felt Rodimus Prime’s desperate EM field wrap around him, swirling with lust, as well as flowing with that strange emotion of love—which Galvatron still did not understand, but treasured as a precious part of his young rival and lover. 

Even their offspring had love in their fields around Galvatron, though Novablaze was appearing to try and hide his more often as he grew up—but the feel of their “ _love_ ” emotion in their EM fields was very different than Rodimus Prime’s own feeling of “ _love_ ” in his EM field. The powerful Emperor of the Decepticons still did not understand the emotion and did not feel it come from anyone other than his Prime and his offspring, so, to him—it was still something very unique to those he’s claimed as his “ _treasures_ ”.

The feelings became more intense in Rodimus Prime’s field, love and lust swirling together and a soft mewling erupted from his vocalizer as he clutched at Galvatron and pleaded for overload. The Decepticon Leader chuckled, pressing his bulky frame close and rocking his hips a little more against his younger lover’s valve-lips. It was just about time to complete the first round of tonight’s pleasure.

And then the moment was there— ** _they passed it_** —and went for the next round just as quickly.

* * * * *

“I apologize that your carrier is such a flake,” Ultra Magnus said to Stormbreaker as he got her some Energon.

She seemed settled and in a good mood as she sat on the large couch in the Autobot Second-in-Command’s office. Magnus had given her a little lap desk and she had a bunch of art supplies strewn about her on the couch. She kicked her pedes lightly against the front edge of the couch as she hummed softly while drawing.

“ _Nah._ It’s ‘kay. Cari loves sire _lots and lots_ ,” Stormbreaker answered looking up and over at Ultra Magnus when he sat back down at his desk. She grinned at him and the old soldier could easily see both Galvatron and Hot Rod in her. “Stormy’s got Magnus and everybody to keep her company ‘til cari gets back!” She giggled, focusing back on her drawing.

Ultra Magnus chuckled softly. Stormbreaker was a very different sparkling than Novablaze was, for certain. She sometimes wavered between talking about herself in the first and third persons, probably something she’d eventually grow out of. But the artistic desire and talent was very different for a Cybertronian, it was very human in its nature. Cybertronians had art and artists, but their methods were quite different than the very Earth-style art methods that Stormbreaker preferred to use.

“ _Ultra Magnus!_ I cannot seem to find Rodimus and I have _very urgent_ news for him!” Perceptor said, sharply, as he came into the old soldier’s office. “ _Oh, ah_ —excuse me, Stormbreaker!” The Autobot chief scientist apologized when he saw the femmeling happily drawing over on the couch.

“ _Excused!_ ” Stormbreaker giggled, focusing on adding some color to her drawing and flashed a brief grin up at Perceptor.

“Rodimus remained behind on Chaar for a short break—he’s also gathering information from Hotlink for us,” Ultra Magnus answered, setting aside the datapads to focus on red-and-grey mech. “Is there something I can do in his place, Perceptor?”

“Unless you’ve got the Matrix of Leadership on you, I don’t think you can do anything, Magnus,” Perceptor said with a deep sigh. “We think that the gestalt needs a boost. Given it is from the time of the Quintessons, it might be able to receive a boost of energy from Vector Sigma via the Matrix. We cannot exactly drag it down to Vector Sigma to get the revitalizing energy ourselves.”

“Why not ask Siggy for the energy?” Stormbreaker said, rather seriously, looking up at Perceptor.

Ultra Magnus couldn’t help but slap a servo over his mouth as a snort of laughter escaped from it before he had a chance to stop it. _Never before in his entire life_ —which was pretty long, given everything—had he ever, **_EVER_** heard Primus or the Master Programming Computer of Vector Sigma referred to as “ _Siggy_ ”. Or anything other than Primus or Vector Sigma, to be honest. It took him a few soft coughs to clear his vocalizer before he thought he could speak clearly.

“Stormbreaker, it is very difficult to ask Vector Sigma to do anything without the Key, which no longer exists, or the Matrix. It needs either of those two devices to……. _mmmm,_ translate the energy into something to give life to a Cybertronian,” Ultra Magnus said, folding his servos on his desk and looking over at her.

“ _Cari can do it!_ ” The red-colored femme said proudly.

“ _Ahem_ , yes, well………your carrier **_does_** have the Matrix,” Perceptor answered with a soft smile down at the femmeling.

“ _I’ll ask Siggy for you, then! Siggy will do it if you ask him!_ ” Stormbreaker said, very, **_VERY_** seriously.

Ultra Magnus had to wonder if that was true. In the past, to even activate Vector Sigma, you needed the Key or the Matrix. However, Rodimus went down there often, sometimes dragging people along with him—and everyone seemed to be able to talk to Vector Sigma, even though it talked in very strange circles around subjects. Almost as if it were four conversations ahead of the one you were currently having with it. He’d been with Rodimus down to the Primal Chamber a few times and watched the two of them hold their strange conversations. He’d spoken with Vector Sigma himself a couple of times—though it always still referred to him as Delta.

“I’m not even sure I can get down to the Primal Chamber on my own, without Rodimus to guide me,” Magnus began, a little unsure of himself as Perceptor looked at him hopefully.

“ _Stormy will take you!_ ” The femmeling said excitedly, hopping off the couch and holding her sketchbook in one servo as she raised the other and waved it.

Admittedly, Stormbreaker **_had_** been down to the Primal Chamber a few times with Rodimus over the years. But if she truly had memorized the way………?

“If you’re sure…..? You, Perceptor and myself will go. We’ll try to ask Vector Sigma for help with the gestalt,” the red-blue-white mech said, looking down at Stormbreaker as he got up from his seat behind the desk.

“ _Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!_ Stormy’s gonna show Siggy my new drawing— _Siggy will love it!_ ” She squealed, putting her sketchbook into her tiger-kitty backpack and hitched it to her back easily. She left all of her drawing equipment scattered on the couch. “ _Magnussssss!!!_ Make sure **_NOBODY_** takes my art supplies!” She demanded, placing her servos on her hips and staring up at Ultra Magnus—looking absolutely like Galvatron in that instance.

“I will lock the door as soon as we leave,” the old soldier chuckled warmly, picking her up in and settling her in one of his arms, as Galvatron often carried her.

And it had turned out to be true—Stormbreaker really did know the way down to Vector Sigma’s chamber. She ran into the center of the chamber and it seemed to brighten very much as soon as she hopped up and down, waving her arms at the orb floating near the ceiling.

“ _Siggy! **Siiiiiiigggggggggggggggyyyyyyyyy**!!! _ I have a new drawing to show you!” The femmeling cried excitedly. She pulled her sketchbook out of her backpack and opened it to the drawing she was just working on. “Do you like it, Siggy?” She asked as a beam of light erupted from the orb in the air and scanned the paper carefully.

_{It is beautiful, little sunstar.}_

The Master Programmer chuckled in its strange, telepathic-like voice. It hovered around and then stopped and spun in place. The voice seemed to be multi-levelled and speaking to itself, as well as Stormbreaker, and also politely greeting Ultra Magnus and Perceptor.

_{My Delta, why have you brought the little sunstar with you today?}_

Ultra Magnus chuckled at the Master Programmer’s nickname for Stormbreaker. “Well, it seems we’ve found the gestalt and we’ve done what we can for it—however, _it’s offline_. We were going to wait until Rodimus returned with the Matrix, but Stormbreaker said she wanted to ask **_you_** to fix the gestalt herself,” the Autobots’ Second-in-Command said, looking up at the floating orb in the massive room.

_{I am very pleased you found the ancient giant, my Delta. So, it is unable to revive itself?}_

Ultra Magnus glanced over at Perceptor. The Autobots’ chief scientist coughed politely to clear his vocalizer and looked up at the hovering orb. He noticed that Stormbreaker was still chatting away and was very surprised at the ability to multi-task that the Master Programmer was showing.

“Vector Sigma, sir—I’ve been overseeing the project of uncovering the gestalt once we found it. Flamewar did an excellent job of finding it and excavating it. Our medical staff has done all they can to ensure the frame is in functioning condition. However, it has no life-energy detected in its Spark—or even the Sparks of the individuals in the combination,” the red-and-grey mech explained, trying to keep it brief, since he didn’t know how much patience the Master Programmer had in conversations.

_{That is, indeed, troubling. How long has it been?}_

The orb circled. And silence echoed in the massive chamber.

“Siggy, can you fix the big Cybertronian?” Stormbreaker asked, looking up at the glowing golden orb above them.

“Vector Sigma, it’s been millions and millions of years since the time of that gestalt,” Ultra Magnus said, serenely. Even though he knew that the last couple times he’d been here with Rodimus Prime, they’d both said the same thing to Vector Sigma. It really had **_no concept_** of time at all.

_{I am afraid I cannot do much from here. I need the conduit formed by my translator and the Matrix.}_

“I figured that,” Magnus sighed.

_{My apologies for my limitations, my Delta. Where is my translator right now?}_

“ _Cari’s visiting sire on Chaar!_ ” Stormbreaker chimed in. “So, you **_really_** can’t do it, Siggy?” She asked with a soft pout in her voice.

_{I would do my very best for you, little sunstar—but even I have my limitations. I need my translator and the Matrix to form a link to where the gestalt is.}_

That was when Ultra Magnus noticed more than just the name in the form of address the Master Programmer used with Stormbreaker. It wasn’t just a nickname, _Vector Sigma did not use the possessive form of address that it used with all other Cybertronians_.

**_Vector Sigma recognized that Stormbreaker was not created by it._**

**_That_** said something right there. Something very important that Ultra Magnus wasn’t quite sure what that “something” was.

“ _Awwww……..poor Siggy!_ Then we gotta wait for cari to get back, hunh?” Stormbreaker sighed, her whole posture sagging.

“Vector Sigma, sir—while I am down here, I wished to ask a question of you……….if I might?” Perceptor began, hesitantly raising a servo as if he were trying to get the glowing golden orb’s attention.

_{Yes, what would you like to ask, my young scientist?}_

“Well, sir. Rodimus said something about your frame and how you said it was old. Do you know where the problems lie? If you did, we could attempt to fix those for you—such as if the issue is in your transformation cog…….?” Perceptor began, trying to phrase the question as easily as he could.

_{Ah. You are kind to consider my frame, but you need not worry. I am not needed in any other form besides this one. It was my sacrifice to make.}_

“ _Of course, sir, but_ ………?” Perceptor asked, a little exasperated.

_{The Torch of Victory and the New King will be warrior enough to fight the enemies you must fight. Besides, all of you children have done so very well over the millennia, taking care of yourself. You have no need for my old frame to take the field.}_

Ultra Magnus tilted his head a little puzzled. One of those descriptions likely belonged to the gestalt they were directed to find, but the second name………..? “ _King_ ” was not a name usually used in the Transformers’ vocabulary. Even for Galvatron, choosing the title of “ _Emperor_ ” was a self-serving moniker to say he was an absolute leader, really.

“Vector Sigma. Is there _another_ we need to be looking for? You mentioned two designations of beings…..?” The red-white-blue mech asked, looking up at the floating orb in the sky.

_{Mmmm? But the New King is already among you all. You have no need to look for them.}_

Even more puzzling! “ _Them_ ”—so, another gestalt? If the team already existed, though—which of the existing gestalts did it belong to? That meant the “ _Torch of Victory_ ” must refer to the gestalt they uncovered.

“Now I see what you mean about conversing with the Master Programmer,” Perceptor chuckled, lightly patting the Second-in-Command’s shoulder. “It’s as if we’re a few steps behind in the conversation, even if its answer seems directly to the question we asked. It’s as if it is answering a question we wanted to ask, but didn’t know it.”

“Rodimus _really is_ better at getting the answers to the actual question asked,” Magnus chuckled softly.

“It is no wonder the Master Programmer calls him a _‘translator’_ then,” the red-and-grey scientist responded with a smile. “We’ll do what we can to prepare the gestalt for when Rodimus Prime gets back, then.”

“ _Siggy! Is the New King my brother?_ ” Stormbreaker asked, looking up at the hovering orb in the air.

_{He is part of what that will be.}_

Now that took both Perceptor and Ultra Magnus by surprise. How did Stormbreaker even make **_that_** guess?! And Vector Sigma confirmed it in its odd, roundabout way!

“Vector Sigma, I think that Novablaze is too young for an _‘epic battle’_ ,” the old Autobot soldier began.

_{You cannot stop what one is born for, my Delta. I had no servo involved in the forging of the young King—though perhaps my meddling caused it to happen.}_

Ultra Magnus grumbled low. Rodimus had said to him one day that he thought Primus may have transported him and Galvatron to that deserted world. That event was the beginning of a new way and new era for all Cybertronians. It seemed small and unimportant, but triggered a vast change in everything—and the path the future held seemed changed forever by that moment.

“ _Meddling, my aft-side_ ,” the old soldier grumbled. “You **_changed_** Hot Rod’s entire internal structure—that goes far beyond mere _‘meddling’_ , Primus!” He snapped, pointing an accusing digit up at the glowing golden orb.

_{You allow your jealousy to cloud your course, my Delta. You did not claim him when you had the opportunity to do so—that opportunity was given to you more often than you clearly realize. You chose to hold your course and not take any personal feelings into your heading. I set forth a path to ensure my translator would be cared for in the future. That Envoy of Chaos seemed quite strong enough to bear such a mission.}_

Another reference to Vector Sigma saying it did not create a Cybertronian—though it may have created Megatron, it acknowledged it had nothing to do with Galvatron.

_{I entrusted the future to Chaos Incarnate. I have not been wrong in this choice. Even Chaos itself can forge the right paths.}_

“Ultra Magnus, I gather you are upset over many things, but this is the wrong place and time—and most certainly _the wrong spread of company_ for this spat,” Perceptor hissed sharply, grabbing Magnus’ arm and jerking his head in the direction of Stormbreaker—who, **_thankfully_** , seemed to be occupied with Vector Sigma holding an entirely separate conversation with her than it was holding with them. “That femmeling **_adores_** her sire—and while I know you dislike Galvatron for a good number of reasons, please _do not_ express your displeasure with the Leader of the Decepticons in front of her.”

Ultra Magnus incycled a deep breath. “Yes, _you’re right_ , Perceptor. I allowed my developing personal feelings for Rodimus to interfere. _I’ll be fine_ ,” he responded, nodding down at the Autobots’ chief science officer.

Perceptor let go of his commander’s arm and then relaxed his posture. “I believe we should go. We cannot get Vector Sigma’s assistance with the gestalt until Rodimus returns, so there’s nothing more for us to do here, is there?” He asked, sternly looking up into the old soldier’s faceplate.

“You’re right. We will just have to wait for Rodimus to return before we continue on with reviving the gestalt,” Ultra Magnus responded, nodding and shuttering his optics for a moment. “Stormbreaker, we’re going back to Iacon now!” He called over to the femmeling.

“ _Oooookkkkkaaaaaayyyyy!!!!!!!!_ ” The femmeling sighed deeply. “ _’Bye, Siggy!_ I’ll bring more drawings to show you next time!” She called, waving up at the glowing golden orb.

_{I will look forward to that, little sunstar. My Delta, I know many things stress you and disrupt you, but as long as you follow the true feelings in your Spark—you will see the right path that you must take. This I promise you—the future is very bright. And you will all get there together.}_

“I understand, Vector Sigma— _thank you_ ,” Ultra Magnus answered, dipping his head politely.

* * * * *

“So, that’s the long and short of it, eh? You’d better make sure my berth’s comfy, because this is gonna exhaust me, _totally_ ,” Rodimus Prime laughed as they walked to the security-surrounded tent at the edge of Iacon, close to First Aid’s vast hospital area.

“ _Um_. Rodimus—is this safe? Will it drain the Matrix?” Ultra Magnus asked, hesitantly. He was unwilling to bring up any more dangerous conversation, since Stormbreaker was in the flame-colored mech’s arms.

“I don’t think so. This _isn’t_ a release of power, actually. Think of it this way—I’m the cord, connecting a power source to an outlet. Vector Sigma’s going to use my frame as a bridge between himself and the Matrix to provide Spark-starting energy to the gestalt,” the flame-colored mech explained. “It’s just going to leave me a bit weak and tired for a few days after this. _Please, I hope you haven’t scheduled me to do any meetings or paperwork for a few days!_ ” He laughed warmly.

“Cari—did you know that Nova’s gonna be **_super-important_** one day? _Siggy said so!_ ” Stormbreaker said, excitedly, patting Rodimus shoulder several times to get his attention.

“I **_did_** miss things, didn’t I?” The young Autobot Leader chuckled, rubbing nasal ridges with his femmeling.

“In a way, Vector Sigma seemed to confirm the theory that Carnivac gave you—about Novablaze being part of a gestalt,” the red-white-blue mech explained. “It said the designation _‘New King’_ —which generally gives some clue to a real designation. So, this gestalt will have a designation alluding to _‘king’_ within it.”

“ _Mmmm_. I don’t think Nova’s found everyone, though. He only speaks of three that he has a strong sense of feelings for. His _‘like-like’_ feelings,” Rodimus murmured softly.

“Maybe they’re **_here_** on Cybertron!” Stormbreaker said, seriously. “I mean, Nova knows everyone on Chaar now—so, they’re **_not_** on Chaar, right? _Make Nova come to Cybertron!_ ” The femmeling pouted.

Maybe part of that was also an excuse to get her brother to come for a visit.

“I’ll discuss that with your sire, later. There’s something else to be taken care of now, sweet-spark,” Rodimus chuckled warmly.

They arrived at the massive tent and were checked by security, properly, despite who all three of them quite obviously were. Especially Stormbreaker—as it would be impossible to try and pretend to be an overly-energetic femmeling, just to infiltrate Cybertron.

“What’ve we got, First Aid?” Rodimus Prime called to his CMO, as soon as he set Stormbreaker down and whispered to her to stay near Ultra Magnus.

“I don’t think I’m wrong in this evaluation, but I believe we have our first _all-femme_ gestalt here!” First Aid called down from the scaffolding he was standing on, as Rodimus climbed the ladder up. “I know we generally can tell by the chestblock and waist design—few femmes have the _‘stocky’_ look and that may have been a Quintessonian era design to sell product to certain kinds of customers.”

“Nova Storm and Strika that I know of—Strongarm just a little bit, she’s got the slender waist of a femme, though, even though her frame’s on the stocky side,” Rodimus said, hefting himself up the last few steps and landing gently on the scaffolding block. “ ** _Oh_** , I see what you mean. Even the gestalt has the high-cut chestblock and slender waist. Yeah, you might be right here.”

The giant Cybertronian was cleaned and polished up from the last time he’d seen the marred and rust-dust-colored frame. While the one arm hadn’t been re-attached—they weren’t sure how to do that with a dormant gestalt—it was laying beside the giant frame, as if it could have been attached. Rodimus Prime noticed the symmetry of the arms and legs—that may have meant **_twins_** for each of the limbs. It was not uncommon for the Quintessons to re-use a frame-design, though. Indeed, if this were the very first gestalt ever in Cybertronian history—the one who created it, Bora-il-Kalen, if they were to believe what that one Quintesson told them—the design would be simplified to see if it worked before more gestalts could be made. Twins to form the limbs, to ensure stability, was the most logical solution for such a creation!

The colors were interesting—a very standard red and greenish-teal. Some grey, black and some white here and there, but the entire gestalt and the members that formed it had those two colors primary on their frames—making the entire gestalt mostly a 2-color creation. Maybe there was a specific reason for those colors and why it was standard for all the femmes in this gestalt? That made the sword—currently locked in a clear case nearby and having two guards standing over it at all times—really stand out, with the primarily silver and blue tones that it had.

“I can’t quite tell………do we have five or six femmes here? The chest armour—it looks like another member, besides the core member of the team,” the flame-colored mech asked, pointing to the elaborate v-shaped chest shield.

“ _Hunh_. I hadn’t considered that, but you might be right—let me do a separate scan and find out,” the small red-and-white medic chuckled warmly, lowering a scanning visor over his optics. “You’re right, there’s a connector point and neural pathways located separately in that chest armour—it **_must_** be a sixth member of the team.”

Five may be the team standard, but there were gestalts out there with six—so it wasn’t completely unusual. _There was even one with only three!_

“I’m not certain how you’ll need to do this, Rodimus—how close do you need to get?” First Aid asked, a little bit of concern seeping into his voice.

“Good question. We’ll have to see,” the flame-colored mech chuckled softly. He opened his chestplate and pulled out the Matrix of Leadership. He held the ancient object out before him. “You know, **_any time now_** , Primus…………” the young Autobot Leader murmured, almost to himself, when nothing seemed to be happening.

Then the crystal heart of the Matrix began to glow brightly and Rodimus Prime dimly heard his femmeling’s “ _ooooohhhhh_ ” as energy rushed through him and around him, swirling about the Matrix of Leadership—emitting both clearly visible light and invisible energy. Rodimus grunted and took a slight step back, when First Aid pushed his servos against the younger mech’s back to make him stand still in place. After all, the scaffolding _wasn’t_ very wide and the small medic did not want to see his young Leader accidentally step backwards off the platform.

Then Rodimus felt the power wrench his arms upwards, so that the heart-crystal of the Matrix was facing upwards to the “ _ceiling_ ” of the massive tent. And then a huge burst of energy, visible light as something akin to a rainshower, but made of sparkling bits………it rained down on the gestalt and seemed to seep into the metallio-derma of the red-and-greenish frame. Suddenly it was over, almost as soon as it had happened.

“You okay, Rodimus?” First Aid asked, grunting a little as he felt the flame-colored frame go a bit slack against him.

“ _Maaaaaaayyyyyybe_ ………..” the young Autobot Leader murmured. “You know something funny, my arms won’t move— _they’re locked up_. Now how’m I s’posed ta puuuuuut dumb Matrix…….ya know, back in my chest………?” He mumbled, his words becoming more and more slurred as his vision began to dim around the edges, his optics slowly taking themselves offline.

“ ** _Maaaaaaaagggggnnnnuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuusssssssssssssssssssss!!!_** ” First Aid howled loudly.

That made the old soldier bolt forwards quickly, straight up the ladder to the scaffolding and catch the flame-colored mech before he passed out and quite possibly have knocked both himself and First Aid off the scaffolding.

“I hope that did _something_ , because I don’t think we can ask Rodimus to do this again anytime soon……..” Magnus sighed, tossing Rodimus ungainly over his shoulder and leapt down from the scaffolding—he was not going to risk climbing down the ladder while trying to carry the flame-colored mech. Rodimus was still holding the Matrix in his servos, which were now dangling down the centerline of Ultra Magnus’ backside.

“It _did_ do something, Magnus—I’m getting vitals from the gestalt,” First Aid called down.

“Thank Primus for _that_ ,” the old soldier sighed to himself. Then he growled a little bit—he _shouldn’t_ be thanking Primus for anything, _since Primus was to blame for everything_. And putting such a large burden on such a very young mech…..! “Stormbreaker, I’ve got my hands full with your carrier—do you think you can walk beside me, back to your hab?” The red-white-blue mech asked, looking down at the femmeling, who had her servos clutched together and her smaller EM field was filled with worry.

“Stormy can walk,” the femmeling said, quietly.

“Thank you, little one. Keep an eye on your carrier and his hands holding onto the Matrix—we don’t want him to lose _that_ , do we?” Ultra Magnus chuckled, smiling down at the red-colored little femme.

“ _Nope! Stormy will watch carefully!_ ” She giggled excitedly, skipping along beside the much larger, older mech.

The three of them had a much quieter walk back to the central hub in Iacon than they had on their way out to the medical tent with the gestalt. Some Autobots stopped them and asked if Rodimus was all right out of concern—and were even more worried to see that he was death-grasping onto the Matrix of Leadership, which wasn’t inside his chest-block. Either Ultra Magnus or Stormbreaker would chime in that he was fine and just needed rest. They eventually made it to the tower where Rodimus Prime and Stormbreaker’s large hab suite was.

As soon as they went into the flame-colored mech’s room in the hab, Magnus leaned forwards to get gravity to pull Rodimus back over the old soldier’s shoulder and then he caught the younger mech easily and switched his grip to a tidier carrying posture. Stormbreaker was humming as she pulled back blankets and fluffed up pillows on the berth, bouncing a bit on the plush mattress. Then the femmeling hopped off the berth so that Magnus could lay the flame-colored mech down in the center of the berth.

The arms and Matrix landed with a clunk on the brightly-colored chestplating.

“He really doesn’t make things easy,” Ultra Magnus sighed. He reached a servo down and spread the palm underneath the back side of the Matrix and lifted both the object and Rodimus Prime’s arms up above his frame. The younger mech was **_definitely_** not letting go of the ancient object. The old soldier opened up Rodimus’ chestplating with his free servo and then used both servos to try and pry the Matrix of Leadership out of the unconscious mech’s clenched servos. “Come on, Rodimus, you **_need_** to let go so I can put this back in your chest,” the old soldier muttered, trying to pry a couple digits out of the bracer-holes in the grips of the ancient device.

As if responding to that statement, Rodimus Prime’s grip relaxed and Ultra Magnus was able to take the Matrix and settle it back in the younger mech’s chest cavity that was designed to fit it. The Autobots’ Second-in-Command exvented a deep sigh of relief as he finally got that done and then carefully closed his young Leader’s chestplating.

“Magnus………..Stormy wants to stay with cari,” Stormbreaker said as she watched the old soldier reach for the edges of the blanket.

“All right—he might be happier with some company as he rests,” Ultra Magnus said with a wry smile. He might have even offered to remain, but right now his own emotions were a bit of a mess—so, it was best if he kept himself busy right now so that he wouldn’t rage and fume at Galvatron and Primus and anyone else who kept burdening Rodimus Prime with more and more things. He never realized his feelings would have grown so strong for the younger mech—and he needed a break from **_those feelings_** for a little while. “If your carrier wakes up and asks for me, let him know I’m going back to see how the revitalization goes on the gestalt. I’ll have some reports for him when he wakes up. Make sure he gets Energon, too.”

“ _Stormy will do!_ ” The femmeling giggled, snuggling up against Rodimus Prime’s side as Ultra Magnus brought the thick triple-layer of blankets over the two of them and tucked them both in fondly. “ _Night-night, Magnus!_ ” She called as he walked to the door of the berthroom and reached for the light sensor switch.

“Sleep well, the both of you,” the old soldier responded with a fond chuckle as he swept off the lights and went back out to the medical tent on the edge of the city.

The area was fully abuzz with energy now—First Aid had tons of medical staff suddenly swarming about the area. There was chatter everywhere, medical equipment chirping and trilling with readings and sensor data. Ultra Magnus could completely feel an EM field from the gestalt now—that strange diffusion of multiple layers of EM fields blending together.

“ _Magnus! Welcome back!_ How’s Rodimus?” First Aid called, practically dashing up to him with excitement and holding onto something like four datapads, all full of different kinds of activity.

“Out cold, but I sensed all his normal vitals just fine—so, I think he’s worn out, as he predicted he’d be,” the old Autobot soldier responded. “Is she conscious?” He asked, nodding at the gestalt.

“ _Kind of_. She said she was running a systems check and would be more conversive once she’s run the systems’ check,” First Aid responded, waving the four datapads like a fan in front of him.

“So, she’s gone to an internal check mode. Any idea how long she will be in this mode? I know when we run our systems checks, it only takes thirty minutes at the longest. But she’s got six individuals and their systems are ancient……….” Ultra Magnus trailed off, placing his servos on his hips and shook his head.

“I hate to admit it, but the original Quintessons were true craftsmen, they built amazing mechs and femmes— _they were built to last_ ,” the small Autobot medic chuckled. “Mass production and allowing those that were our ancestors to take over the production denigrated the lines somewhat. But the original mechs and femmes created by the Quintessons are _crazy-impressive_. Think of Alpha Trion, for one—he lasted very nearly forever. He was there at the beginning and he was there until just a couple decades ago.”

Ultra Magnus nodded. There were……..different reports on what happened with Alpha Trion’s end. Optimus Prime felt that his teacher and predecessor could most likely have lived through what happened, but he decided his life was long enough and chose an end for himself that would martyr his name, basically. So, if that were true, Alpha Trion could have been practically immortal—just that he **_chose his end_** , so that it would have meaning, motivation and purpose to the Autobot cause.

And if that were true—then this gestalt could possibly be just as enduring and eternal as Alpha Trion was. She was created by a Quintesson with a **_DESIGNATION_**. Quintessons that had names, they were individuals who cared about their skills and quality of their creations. As they’d heard from some of the Quintessons they’d chosen to bargain with in more recent years—most Quintessons with no names and chose to respond to no such thing as a designation were the “ _young ones_ ” and these were often looked down upon by many of the “ _older_ ” generations of Quintessons. The “ _young ones_ ” and the “ _older ones_ ” rarely interacted with one another and, in general, actually seemed to hate one another. Some older Quintessons had forsaken their names as some kind of penance—they held them in secret and only spoke to their peers of their own age range with their actual designations. Those very, very few Quintessons that chose to use their names— _they were old and prideful_.

_Such as Raj-ur-Malekk._

A Quintesson that Rodimus Prime had told Ultra Magnus may not even be using his true designation—Raj-ur-Malekk’s true designation might be “ _Kila-il-Lairn_ ”. If **_that_** were true—if this Quintesson allied with Starscream truly were that ancient and were **_THAT_** particular Quintesson, it begged a lot of questions. Quintessons that transgressed like that were often banished to other dimensions, through the “ _door_ ” that had once been active far beneath Cybertron’s surface—which Rodimus had been extremely smart to ask Vector Sigma/Primus to deactivate that function forever. Why hadn’t Kila-il-Lairn ever been banished, then? And if it were the same Quintesson now using the name of “ _Raj-ur-Malekk_ ”—why the name change? _To hide?_ Most Quintessons they spoke to knew that Raj-ur-Malekk was once Kila-il-Lairn, or at least sincerely believed them to be the same individual.

Did the **_names_** mean something, then?

Maybe _that_ was what they didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t know enough about Quintessons to understand designations and the meanings of them. Or even to know the meanings of specific Quintesson terms. Which was another whole canister of questions. Old High Cybertronian was also, according to Rewind, the Quintessonian language—or at least what they came to Cybertron with.

Correction, _the language they created Cybertron with_. They fled the mysterious “ _Darkest One_ ”, when their original homeworld of Quintessa was destroyed. “ _Prime_ ”, the planet they created, became known as “ _Cybertron_ ”, instead. So, what if the language they spoke when they created this world and the Transformers and Primus/Vector Sigma………..was **_not_** their actual original language? What if only the oldest of the Quintessons still used the original Quintesson language? And what if there was a meaning behind the name change of “ _Kila-il-Lairn_ ” into “ _Raj-ur-Malekk_ ”?

That left the question of the “ _younger Quintessons_ ”—had they only ever known Cybertron as their home? None of them referred to Cybertron by it’s original name of “ _Prime_ ”. And even when Rewind re-translated some of the Old High Cybertronian with some things they knew now—he could find many instances of the planet being called “ _Prime_ ”, which had often been translated by historians as “ _Primus_ ” instead, before it was called “ _Cybertron_ ”—and might even hint at how the religion came about and Primus as a creator-god.

They still didn’t know enough about **_the Quintessons_**. And even the ones willing to talk to them in exchange for things of the past few years, they still rarely spoke of anything that would give knowledge and meaning to the past of the original planet Quintessa, it’s death (other than the mention of the Darkest One), and the foundation of Cybertron.

“Lost in thought, Magnus?” First Aid asked, bringing the Autobots’ Second-in-Command back to reality.

“A little, _yes_ ,” the old soldier chuckled softly.

“ _Medic_ ……….” a deep voice echoed in the tented area. It was multi-layered, which showed it belonged to the gestalt. From the deeper tone, it was difficult to tell it was female in sound, but it wasn’t surprising as the multi-layer voice and size of the vocalizer made any vocalizations deeper and unable to tell a specific “ _gender_ ” to them.

“Yes, my dear—are you feeling better?” First Aid asked, quickly hopping up to the scaffolding, so that he could look down at the female gestalt. “This is the Autobots’ Second-in-Command—his designation is _Ultra Magnus_ ,” he introduced as the old soldier joined him up on the scaffolding.

“Our systems check comes up normal. It is strange given how much time you have told us has passed,” she answered with a deep exvent of a sigh. “I suppose historical catch up shall wait. We would like to disband now, if possible. It may make checking us all over individually an easier task for your medics.”

“If you feel you’re well enough to disengage, we would find it easier to look you all over. My dear—what is the name we shall call you?” The small Autobot medic chuckled fondly.

“In this combined frame, we are the _Torch of Victory_ , the _Defender of the Light_ —we are known as **_Victorion_** ,” the female gestalt responded, with deep warmth in the tone of her voice and rippling through her EM field.

Then there was a sharp warning sound as all the medics hopped back to safe distances and the gestalt disengaged into six individuals. Four of them had a standard size to the average Cybertronian. One was slightly smaller, about the size of Bumblebee……and the last was larger, about the size of Ultra Magnus. They all looked around at each other and spoke softly in Old High Cybertronian for a few moments—which made Ultra Magnus wonder if the Matrix’s infusion of life-energy might’ve given a language adaption program, too. It was convenient, for sure, because then they didn’t need Rewind there to translate for them.

Then five of the femmes went towards the medical staff and began chatting energetically as they asked for checkups. The largest of the group took a few steps towards the scaffolding—she had bulky armour in places, but the general femme high-cut chestblock and slender waist. She placed a grey servo at her hip and then made a “ _come here_ ” motion towards Ultra Magnus and First Aid up on the scaffolding. The two of them descended and then walked over to the femme who was obviously the leader of this group.

“My designation is _Pyra Magna_ —I am the commander of this group,” she explained, simply, folding her arms across her chest. “I have been searching for an appropriate _‘shorter’_ name for our group, from the modern language. I believe _‘Torchbearers’_ may suffice at this point.”

First Aid began running scans, chatting pleasantly with the old femme.

“This is the _Symbol of the Light_ ,” she said, pointing to the emblem on her left shoulderblock. “Master Bora gave us our names and our purpose, but we fell when fighting the minions of the Darkest One,” Pyra Magnus said with a sigh and looked over at Ultra Magnus. “You were referred to as a _‘second’_ —therefore you have a commanding officer. Where are they?” She asked of him as First Aid continued running scans on her frame.

“Rodimus Prime is resting. He used the Matrix of Leadership to make a conduit for Vector Sigma to infuse you all with new life energy,” Ultra Magnus answered softly, placing his servos on his hips and exventing a deep sigh.

“Some things the same………..so many are different,” Pyra Magna sighed softly, shaking her head. “It appears we have a lot to catch up on before we try to figure out what to do next. But the Sword of Light says the Darkest One is coming—so, I do not think we have the years we would probably need to get used to everything. The Torchbearers are at your service, we shall do our best to protect this world, our home of Prime. _Mmmm_ , **_Cybertron_** —I see it has been renamed,” she chuckled, shaking her head softly as the translator inside of her supplied Cybertron’s current designation.


	4. The Empress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally--the original history of Quintessa and what the Quintessons are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this chapter for quite awhile and.........as you can see, it is longer than the previous three. *laughs*
> 
> Now, there's a lot of stuff about Quintessons--especially lately, with "Cyberverse" and the NetFlix series based on the WFC toys. And they've ret-conned the fact of the Quintessons being the creators of the Transformers, blah-blah-blah. Heck, there was even "The Last Knight" live-action film...........!
> 
> And part of what I'm using for Quintesson history here comes from "Transformers: Energon". It was very much alluded that Alpha-Q was an amalgamated being of the races from the home-planet that was destroyed by Unicron. It was alluded that there was a robotic species they shared the world with (Scorponok and, by extension, the concepts behind the Terrorcons Alpha-Q created using Unicron's power).
> 
> Next up--I should have the next MegaRod chapter of "Historical Alternatives" done in the next few weeks. I hope to finish up "Out Beyond the Stars" soon, too. And the final chapter of "Torch of Victory" will have a stunning conclusion--though it might take me a couple months to get there. XD

_ Chapter Four: The Empress _

Kicker felt his anticipation engine ramp up as he drove closer to the campground that was near his grandparents’ ranch. He was on his way home from school on a Friday afternoon, after an early dismissal for teacher in-service. His hair felt itchy as it tried to fly around underneath his motorcycle helmet and began to warm up, though not to a burning temperature yet.

It was a **_Transformer_** , that was for certain—he could sense an EM field and Energon. But his anticipation engine wouldn’t ignite if it were just some Autobot shadowing him at Rodimus Prime’s orders. That meant it _wasn’t_ a friendly Transformer—and the fact that they were somewhere on the road to his grandparents’ ranch, it meant that it was a Transformer that was seeking **_him_**. And that could _NOT_ have been a good thing.

The very strange thing was— _whoever_ this Transformer was, they were letting Kicker drive right up to him without even doing a single thing.

The human teenager took off his helmet as he parked the motorcycle on a small dirt path off from the main road. He looked around and then looked directly at a space in front of him.

“ _Seriously_. Are you using some kind of optical camouflage?” The brown-haired teen said, frowning as he stared at a space that looked completely empty to almost anyone’s eyes.

There was a light chuckle, of a deep voice of a Transformer he _didn’t_ recognize. “You really are as good as I’ve heard. Born this way, were you? I’m curious to know how your genetics mutated to give you such an ability,” a voice said from the empty space.

“Flattery really will not get you anywhere with me. I’m aware you could probably transform and step on me, but there’s a reason you haven’t done anything at all yet—just _watched_ me,” Kicker snapped in response.

“Prickly little fleshling, aren’t you?” The voice chuckled softly.

Only **_Decepticons_** used the term “ _fleshling_ ” so flippantly. But there was no reason Galvatron would send any sort of Decepticon after him—so, a Destron, maybe?

“Get to the point, would you? I’d like to get home in time for dinner,” the teenage boy groaned. “What do you plan to do with me? _Kidnap me? Ransom me?_ **_Use my amazing abilities for your twisted and evil purposes?_** ” He added as he kept staring at the empty spot before him.

“ _So tempting!_ But, no—I’d like for you to give Rodimus Prime a message for me,” the voice responded, with a hint of a laugh in his deep, echoing voice.

“Only if you show me your face—I’m not going to fall for a trap, because I know my Autobots and Decepticons and some of Starscream’s merry little band,” Kicker said, bouncing his motorcycle helmet on his knee.

The mech chuckled. Then the image of nothing before the teenage human boy shimmered and uncloaked. It was a tank, primarily green with a little bit of magenta-purple coloring on it. The brand clearly visible on the mech’s front side, the panelling right below the tank’s cannon, was not Autobot or Decepticon or even Destron—though it looked like a strange version of all of them and colored in black, framed against a logo beneath it that was sunburst yellow. Then the mech transformed and knelt before Kicker. He seemed rather normal and unimposing—with his colors of green and magenta-purple. There was no real originality to the design of his frame, but Kicker was not letting what his eyes see tell him what was up.

This Transformer was _absolutely and utterly dangerous_. His EM field and the strength of his Spark told the human boy that.

“Wait, **_you’re_** ………but…….?” Kicker said, suddenly getting a flash in his mind of what— _WHO_ —else this mech looked like.

Someone Rodimus Prime was _concerned_ about.

“ _Hush, boy_. Speak my designation and what comes next will be unpleasant and I’ll have to find another delivery method for my message,” the mech growled softly. Then he produced a strange kind of datapad that Kicker had never seen the design of before. “Rodimus Prime is a translator and he will know what this message means. Only **_he_** will know what it means.”

Kicker took the datapad and swung his backpack over his shoulder to stow it away safely.

“Okay, fine—I’ll be your messenger, but you better know I’m not leading my friends into trouble or a trap,” the boy grumbled as he put his backpack back on his back and then fastened on his helmet once more.

“Your gift would tell you if there was danger, would it not? The only danger is if Rodimus Prime _doesn’t understand_ what it is I’ve handed to him,” the mech chuckled. Then he transformed back into his tank mode and used his invisibility cloak again. But he _did not leave_ and Kicker could sense that.

The teenage boy gave a huff and drove all the way to his grandparents’ ranch.

“ _I’m home!_ ” He called.

“ _Kicker!_ ” Sally cried, jumping down from her seat at the counter in the kitchen and hugged her older brother fondly. Then she hopped back and planted her hands on her hips and frowned up at him. “ _You’re late!_ Granny wasn’t sure if she should start dinner or not!” She pouted.

“Sorry, brat—I stopped to get some air in my tires on the way home, the gas station was busy,” Kicker laughed, flat-out lying because he didn’t want any of his family to worry about him. “Got any homework you need help with while we’re waiting?” He asked, reaching over and touseling her short honey-brown hair.

“ _Mine’s_ all done! What about you? Anything I can help **_you_** with?” The seven-year-old girl asked, hopping back up to her seat at the counter.

“Nope, finished all mine in study hall today,” Kicker responded. “Tell grandma I’m ready for dinner anytime, I’ll be in my room until it’s done!” He added, walking through the kitchen into the hallway towards the bedrooms.

In general, while they were attending school, both Sally and Kicker stayed with their grandparents during the school semester terms. It was easier than a daily commute all the way from Athenia! Their mom sometimes stayed for a few months at a time, unless she was needed on Athenia.

Once in his bedroom, Kicker flopped onto the bed and used the datapad that Rodimus gave him and took a photo of the datapad that the mysterious mech gave him. Then he i-mailed the Autobot Leader the photo and said that this strange mech wanted the boy to give it to him—that he’d know what it meant and what was on it. Then he also drew on his datapad a version of the brand that the mech was wearing and noted there was another logo beneath it, but he couldn’t see it because of the brand on top of it…..so, he drew what he thought it might look like. After finishing his i-mail message, he reached for his handheld game system and began to play “ _Cosmic Bug Rancher: Supernova Version_ ” until his grandmother called him out for dinner.

* * * * *

Rodimus Prime’s head turned towards the nightstand when his personal datapad buzzed and vibrated. Ultra Magnus also looked over with a frown.

“ _It can wait_ ,” the flame-colored mech chuckled. “If it were immediate and important they’d have glyphed me instead,” he added as he rocked his hips and brushed servos over his lover and Second’s chestplating.

“If you say so,” Magnus sighed, gently cupping his large servos over the young Autobot Leader’s hip-plating.

Rodimus leaned forwards and cupped his servos around the sides of the red-white-blue mech’s faceplate and gazed deeply into the dimly glowing blue optic glass. “What’s wrong with you, Magnus? You’ve been _grumpy_ lately. And you don’t seem very into fragging tonight…….? I mean, _I scheduled time_ to be with you on a date and overnight, but you’re **_not_** enjoying my company at all are you?” He asked, puzzled and stopping the slow movement of his hips.

“I’m sorry. I’m just very angry at circumstances surrounding you right now and I’m having issues maintaining that distance between being your Second **_and_** your lover,” Magnus responded softly, bringing one servo up and lightly cupping the back of Rodimus Prime’s helm. “I’m worried that there’s too much pressure being put on you, by many people— _myself included_ ,” he sighed, pulling Rodimus’ helm down so that their foreheads touched lightly.

“ _Yeah._ But it’s what I’m here for,” the flame-colored mech murmured. Galvatron had been expressing the same concerns recently. It was a good thing Ultra Magnus hadn’t witnessed his emotional breakdown a few weeks ago— _only Galvatron had seen that_. Galvatron could handle it, but clearly if Ultra Magnus were agitated by what he did know—it was definitely for the best that the older mech had not seen his breakdown in front of Galvatron. “I’m stronger now— _I can bear it_. I always **_could_** bear it, _I just_ ……I just wasn’t ready for it at that moment when Optimus Prime died before.”

“I’m sure you can, Rodimus—but it still doesn’t prevent me from worrying about you,” he murmured, rubbing nasal ridges with the younger mech. He rubbed the palm of his servo gently along the back of the flame-colored mech’s helm. “ _Vector Sigma_ chided me. And I deserved it. I should _never_ have allowed you to be so lonely—even if I never acted on any emotions, I should not have pushed you away when you were trying to fit in.”

“ _Well_. The past is the past and we can’t change it—and if we try to, we mess things up, right? I mean, that Quintesson gate and all……..” Rodimus laughed, slowly pulling himself back up and wriggling his hips to drive Magnus’ spike deeper into him with a light huff and moan.

“Should we really trust the few Quintessons that we’ve come across? All these years and we still know _nothing_ about them, what if another one tries such a bizarre tactic?” Ultra Magnus sighed, sliding both servos gently along the flame-colored mech’s hips and aft. He pulled himself upright as he held Rodimus down on his spike and then began to kiss lightly along the younger mech’s jawline.

“I have a feeling the others are worried about this _‘Darkest One’_ —and because we have no clue what it is, we can’t exactly know what we’re preparing for. Even Pyra Magna is uncertain about details, because it can hide and change shape,” Rodimus Prime sighed as he slid his forearms over the broad shoulders of his Second-in-Command and placed spread servos at various places on the bulkier mech’s backside. “If they think we have a chance of fighting the monster they had poor luck in defeating—or if they think at least our sacrifice could blunt the damn thing from coming after them—I think they’re willing to give us some sort of backhanded support.”

Rodimus offlined his optics as Magnus leaned him back and began thrusting into him. He was happy that his other lover was finally getting into the fragging, because he loved Ultra Magnus a lot— _he wanted this relationship to last_. The Decepticons made no difference with fragging—and certainly Galvatron equated emotions and fragging to be _completely separate things_. He understood Rodimus Prime went into things emotionally, but he also had a connection to the younger mech’s Spark—which as long as he had that singular connection that **_no other had_** , he cared not what emotions Rodimus gave to anyone whatsoever. _Because he had the honesty of the Spark-bond_ —and **_that_** would never lie to him about Rodimus Prime’s true feelings.

After the two reached overload, they settled back on the bed and the flame-colored mech reached for his datapad to see what the message left in his i-mail was.

“ _Oh_ , it’s from Kicker—that explains why I didn’t get a glyph,” Rodimus chuckled softly. “I certainly can’t call him back now—he’d be dead asleep and at his grandparents. I suppose I’ll leave him a response and ask him to…….. _oh_ ,” he said, stopping his train of thought entirely when he saw the crudely drawn symbols of emblems.

“What is it, Rodimus?” Magnus asked, pulling the flame-colored mech close to his side so he could look at the datapad, as well.

“I could be wrong, but doesn’t this kind of look like the Torchbearers’ _Emblem of Light_?” The younger mech murmured, pointing at the yellow-colored drawing on the screen. “This other one, though—it _doesn’t_ look familiar to me at all, but it looks like all our brands mixed together.”

“If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it probably was—but since Pyra Magna said _their brand_ was from Bora-il-Kalen, then the symbol is likely a Quintesson one,” Magnus answered, reaching up with his free servo to rub his chin thoughtfully. “The other one may be a Quintesson one as well. Even our own brands were based on tags that the Quintessons gave our ancestors.”

“If _that’s_ true—then the mech that Kicker encountered is probably working with Quintessons, but why would the Quintessons give us information that is supposedly extremely important?” Rodimus mumbled, sitting up and staring at the symbols intensely.

Kicker’s message said that he thought he might know who the mech was, but wasn’t mentioning anything unless it was in person. And that the mech hinted the contents of the strange datapad were likely in code—a code that supposedly _only Rodimus Prime_ could understand. And if Rodimus Prime could understand the code—then there would be an “ _ultimate prize_ ” worth claiming. **_That_** definitely piqued his interest.

“I’m heading to Earth, Magnus—just in a speeder and with Sixshot, but ask my crew to prepare to be ready in case we have somewhere to go after I get this information translated,” the flame-colored mech said, seriously, swinging his legs over the edge of the berth.

Ultra Magnus caught his servo and pulled him back before he could get up. “Neither Galvatron nor I have ever been able to stop you when you set a course. _Just be careful_ ,” he said, quietly and pressed his lips to the younger mech’s own lips. “And take a shower before you go running off—we did frag after all,” he chuckled as Rodimus hugged him tightly before pulling away.

“ _Aye, sir!_ ” The flame-colored mech laughed as he hopped to his pedes and strode towards his Second-in-Command’s washroom.

* * * * *

“ _Well_ ………..what is it?” Kicker asked after five minutes since Rodimus Prime met with him at Metroplex and he took the strange datapad.

“Kicker—I haven’t even turned it on, yet. I’m _examining_ it,” the flame-colored mech grumbled as he rubbed his temple to bring down his scanning visor. He looked at the makeup of the datapad and it looked like something that included Cybertonium and other elements—he couldn’t scan any dangerous element or anything that seemed like it would ignite an explosion if he turned it on. “Take a seat, kiddo. It might take me a little bit—tell me about the mech you met.”

Sixshot gave a little chuckle and helped the teenage boy up into a chair designed for Cybertronians at the table in the conference room. Kicker settled down crosslegged and crossed his arms over his chest as he frowned and his hair slightly floated and glowed a light golden around his head. He was used to that after all these years, because he knew Cybertronians couldn’t turn off their EM fields and Sparks—though, clearly Sixshot had some way of dampening his field, the boy couldn’t sense the Decepticon’s field as easily as he could sense Rodimus Prime’s and Metroplex’s all around him.

“I’m pretty sure it was **_Bludgeon_** , but it didn’t look like the one I’d seen in my dream. He looked ridiculously normal,” Kicker sighed, shaking his head. “He was like magenta and green, really—a tank mode and his robot mode looked really normal and average.”

“ _Mmmm_ ,” Rodimus murmured, leaning over the datapad he’d affixed to a table and was rubbing digits along all the seams. He only half-heard the boy’s descriptions.

“You asked him to describe Bludgeon and you’re not even listening, Rodimus,” Sixshot said, sharply, trying to get the young Autobot Leader to focus on one thing or the other or find a way to do both. The flame-colored mech startled and looked over at the powerful Decepticon six-changer. “I want you to consider that _‘he looked normal’_ for a moment. What would that tell you?”

“ _Quintessons_ , but I already figured that out from the symbols that Kicker sent me,” Rodimus said, frowning as he turned and looked over towards the human and the Decepticon.

Sixshot facepalmed himself and grumbled. “Yes, but what would it tell you about what we know of Bludgeon and what Quintessons would have to do with it?” The teal-and-white Decepticon said with a deep sigh.

Rodimus pondered that and then shrugged.

“ _Rodimus Prime_. It means that Bludgeon is a lot older than we know of **_and_** we weren’t expecting him to be a Quintesson ally—and more likely a direct Quintesson creation, as the Torchbearers are,” Sixshot snapped.

The young Autobot Leader’s optic glass glowed bright blue and his mouth opened in a slight gaping “ _o_ ” shape.

“I mean, maybe it’s just me……….but I think the Quintessons are hoping for you to be able to do _something_ , Rodimus,” Kicker said, looking over at Rodimus Prime carefully. “I don’t know much more than what all you guys know about them, but they seem really prideful—and you should know from Galvatron that trying to get a prideful person to ask for help of any kind is stupid-hard.”

Then, inside of Rodimus’ own head, Ultra Magnus’ words of the night before echoed.

_“I’m worried that there’s too much pressure being put on you, by many people— **myself included**.”_

If Kicker were right—the Quintessons were relying on him, as well. Or at least **_some group_** of Quintessons that recognize “ _The Darkest One_ ” as a serious threat to all existence. And if they had learned _anything_ about Quintessons over the years, they were insular and they were very prideful. And many of them were very, very old—they had seen things that most of the universe thought were simply overblown legends. The oldest Quintessons knew what a grave threat that this “ _Darkest One_ ” was.

“Then Bludgeon is allied with a very, very old group of Quintessons—and if they’re reaching out to us, they’re making some kind of sacrifice we don’t understand,” Rodimus Prime murmured softly, turning back to the datapad. “Because they approached me in utter secrecy with an agent that nobody realizes is allied with them—because this mech’s brands are unrecognizable in today’s universe.”

“If they saw his brand or brands, they may assume he’s a splinter from the Autobots or the Decepticons—as the Destrons are—because of the recognizable elements of the design,” Sixshot added, nodding thoughtfully.

“I do have a weird question, though—if he looks _so normal_ , then why do the picture books have him looking so different?” Kicker asked, looking between the Autobot and the Decepticon carefully.

“Kicker, those _aren’t_ picture books………” Sixshot said with a soft laugh.

“ _Hey!_ I can’t read Cybertronian, so to me they’re picture books!” The teenage boy laughed, flashing a grin at the powerful Decepticon warrior.

Rodimus stood straight, gazing down at the datapad, and folded his arms across his chest. The young human made a good point—why did the mech that Kicker encountered look very plain and average in design, when all they knew of Bludgeon’s design from historical records showed a warrior mech with “ _stabby-bits_ ” and “ _pointy-edges_ ”? Plus the color scheme………the Bludgeon they knew from the records wore gold and dark red—this mech that the teenager met was green and magenta.

And the truest point was— ** _this_** had to be Bludgeon’s _natural form_ , because Kicker would’ve recognized a false form. So, the design in the historical records was a “ _false form_ ”.

“ _A false form_ ……..?” Rodimus Prime murmured. Then he jolted straight and stiff as something came to mind—from years back when Starscream infiltrated Athenia. And those monster mechs he had wore “ _false forms_ ”, too. Starscream’s ally, Raj-ur-Malekk, would’ve created them—a Quintesson created those “ _false forms_ ”. Bludgeon was a Quintesson agent. The “ _false form_ ” was……..! “Well, damn—no wonder nobody knows whether Bludgeon was alive or dead all these millennia. He’s been wandering through history not wearing the form he wore for all his life on Cybertron, the one we’d recognize him by—he was wearing a false form all along, back then…… _one of the Quintessons’ Pretender Shells!_ ” The young Autobot Leader laughed. “But back then, the technology wasn’t meant to make him a disguise of organic semblance—it was an armour of some sort. When he _‘died’_ in that false form, he discarded the Pretender Shell and went through life with his actual, originally created form!”

“Well, now that we’ve sussed that out—how about seeing what’s on that datapad, then?” Sixshot chuckled.

Just then, Optimus Prime came into the room. “Jazz just let me know you arrived a couple hours ago, Rodimus—I finally had time to meet with you. Have you figured anything out yet?” The former Autobot Leader and the current commander of the Earth branch asked.

“Well, we’ve figured out some tangential stuff, I’ve still been a bit concerned about looking at what’s _ON_ the datapad yet—because Quintessons, you know?” The flame-colored mech responded, grinning over at his predecessor. “We think that maybe, if its true that Bludgeon is a Quintesson agent of some sort—he may have had a Pretender Shell when he was alive back on Cybertron all those millenia ago. And when he died in that combat with Megatron, he basically discarded the shell and has been living in his natural form since then—that’s why there are so many stories of whether he’s dead or alive.”

“It would go a long way towards explaining a lot of things,” the red-and-blue mech responded, with the warmth of a smile in his voice. “It’s pleasant to see you, Sixshot—and it’s nice to see you as well, Kicker,” he added when he noticed the human teenager grumpily fidgeting in his chair.

Kicker got up and jumped down from the chair. “I **_can’t_** be in the room with all you guys here—it’s too much for me, I’m going outside for a walk. Now, look, Rodimus—Bludgeon said that **_you_** are the only one who can translate it, so I don’t think it’s a matter of language, okay? And don’t forget— _I’m a member of your crew_. Maybe not one-hundred percent officially until I’m eighteen, but you made me a part of your crew and you know I can be useful. So, don’t forget I’m here and I’m a part of all this, too,” the teenage boy said as he cupped his laced fingers behind the back of his head and stretched. Then he walked towards the door of the conference room and paused to wait for a response from the young Autobot Leader.

“I know, Kicker. I can’t protect you forever, because you’re not a child anymore. But I have children, too—so, as a parent, I’m very worried about taking you into this kind of danger,” the flame-colored mech said, softly. “And, yeah—I’m aware you have an important part in all of this. Primus has made me very aware that you’re vital to everything.”

“Hey, Primus can say what he wants—which seems to be a whole lot of looping weirdness most of the time…….. _but facts are facts_. **_You ‘bots always need a human sidekick!_** ” The teenage boy laughed. “By the way………nobody ever answered my question— _who the heck is Delta_?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder at the three mechs in the room.

Kicker had the strange joy of seeing Optimus Prime nearly choke on his own intake of breath and Rodimus Prime’s faceplate flush a bright pink. Sixshot merely looked at Kicker and shrugged.

“ _Oh. **OOOOOOHHHHH!**_ _That’s_ who Delta is, hunh? Really?” The teenage boy laughed, chortling as he left the room. _‘Ultra Magnus, hunh?’_ He thought with great amusement. Well, the boy was good at keeping any sort of secret and apparently being called “ _Delta_ ” was a secret that Ultra Magnus wanted kept—so, he wouldn’t say a word to anyone.

Optimus Prime cleared his intake and stood with Rodimus by the datapad affixed to the table. “ _So._ Do you think it’s about time we find out what the message is that the Quintessons sent you?” The red-and-blue mech asked, curiously.

Rodimus Prime nodded and incycled and exvented a couple of times to relax himself. Then he touched the power switch on the side of the strange datapad and the tablet booted itself up and gave a welcome screen in modern Cybertronian. Then there was a menu option screen—however, only one tab on the menu screen was able to be accessed, with bold font and a clear touch option. All other dozen options on the screen were greyed out, which meant it was locked and meant for only a very specific use.

It was essentially a letter, to put it simply.

There was no interaction with anything on the datapad—unless someone wanted to try hacking it—and given the Quintessons created it, the thing may likely be as hack-proof as possible. The only option selected was a message that had branching tabs within it—likely containing various levels of information. But the branching tabs probably could only be selected in a specific progression, like reading a book on a tablet—you could go to pages you wanted, but it was designed to go a specific route when you were reading it. Bookmarking a digital book made it easier than trying to jump pages and not know where you’d actually end up in the book.

“ ** _I_** …….this language is…….. _I’m not even sure Rewind could read this._ It must be original Quintessonian— _maybe_???” Rodimus murmured, touching the initial tab to bring up the front page of the message.

“Remember what Kicker said—the Quintessons know you can read this, so they wouldn’t have given you something that you couldn’t read at all or needed a translator for,” Sixshot said, from over in his seat by the large conference table. The older Decepticon was relaxing and had propped his pedes up on the corner of the table and leaned back in the chair.

Rodimus converted the display table to an upright position so that he could view the datapad in a “ _monitor style_ ” format. Then he stood back and crossed his arms, gazing at the message screen. Optimus rubbed the bottom ridge of his facial shield, a puzzled sense in his posture and his EM field.

“The only thing as old as this script is the Matrix—honestly, how am I supposed to read something that I don’t even have a key for?” The flame-colored mech grumbled, placing his servos on his hips and gave a deep huff of frustration.

Then, suddenly, he and Optimus Prime looked at each other at the same time.

“ _The key?_ ” Optimus asked, holding Rodimus’ gaze.

“ ** _I_** …….well, we’ve always called the Matrix something like a key, like an alternate key to Vector Sigma, right?” The flame-colored mech murmured, shaking his head. “And, unlike most Autobot Leaders, I’ve had a more direct connection to the Matrix almost like a hardwired connection—that’s why Primus can use me as a conduit for its power……… _I’m_ ………. ** _a translator_** , right?” He asked, tilting his head as he gazed at Optimus Prime.

“You have your adaptive toolset, which a lot of Autobots don’t have. Perhaps the Matrix can work through your adaptive toolset. Your scanning visor, perhaps?” The former Autobot Leader asked, hopefully.

Some Autobots had one extra tool or another, but most didn’t have the full set of tools that Hot Rod had when he came online. Some had a scanner, some had a servo-replacement type of tool, some had an efficiency adaptor on their engines……..but only Rodimus Prime had all the potential tools that other Autobots or Decepticons only had one piece of.

Rodimus brought his scanning visor back down and tried to establish a link with the Matrix—asking if Primus would do something to help him out here, lightly and under his breath. At first, there was nothing. His scanning visor analyzed the materials the screen was based upon and fed him the scanning and analytical data, but then something strange began to happen as he felt the weird static charge of Matrix energy rush through his fuel-lines.

First it was particular words that became highlighted in different colors. Groups of words started to re-sort into different color groups on his HUD, beneath the visor. Rodimus Prime gasped softly. That was why Quintessonian couldn’t be easily translated, because they all overlooked the obvious.

**_The FIVE_**.

The Quintessons were adherent to “ _five_ ” for everything. And the Transformers never understood it. But in the modern eras, no one had ever seen the Quintessons in groups of five. The Quintessons, themselves, were splintering the key factor of their species.

There were suddenly five groups of colors/glyphs on Rodimus Prime’s HUD—even though nothing on the datapad’s screen changed whatsoever. The color determination seemed to be specifically related things, sorting them out to branching tabs, but then………..

“ _Wait_. There’s a **_sixth group_** —my HUD’s not displaying them as one of the five colors,” the flame-colored mech grumbled, reaching out to touch the screen of the datapad. He began to tap the glyphs on the screen that he was not seeing in any kinds of groups of colors. “ _But why six?_ That’s not right. The Quintessons are locked into the number five…….” he muttered, softly, oblivious to Optimus Prime and Sixshot even being in the room anymore. “There **_can’t_** be a sixth set of glyphs—it makes no sense……. _oh, Primus_.”

“Rodimus? What’s wrong?” Optimus Prime asked, placing a gentle servo on the younger mech’s shoulder to try and ground him back in reality.

“The Empress wants to see me,” Rodimus Prime whispered, deactivating his scanning visor and swiping down all the windows he didn’t realize he’d opened by following the colored branching tabs he’d been able to see on his HUD. “She’s very specific on what she expects and she only wants me bringing a very, very specific handful of individuals.”

“ _Empress? **She?**_ ” Sixshot asked, suddenly alert. When did gender come into play around the Quintessons? Just because some of them used the common, generic moniker of “ _he_ ”, especially the younger ones—they never specifically claimed any sort of genders.

“The Empress has her own language. That’s what the sixth set was. _Her language_ —I can’t even explain all of this, but……….the Quintessons have a _‘queen mother’_ figure,” the flame-colored mech sighed, turning to keep both Sixshot and Optimus Prime in his visual range as he took the datapad from the table and placed it in one of his subspace pockets. “I don’t think the youngest ones even know about her. She’s been in secret and super-hidden exile since the original Quintessa was destroyed. The language—the five sets I could see—it was a briefly-stated introduction, so that I’d understand why everything’s so secretive about her existence and the sixth set was her specific invitation. I have seven days to respond.”

“Then Bludgeon was right to say you’d be a fool if you didn’t understand the importance of this,” Sixshot said with a light chuckle as he shook his head and removed his pedes from the edge of the table as he stood up. “But Lord Galvatron’s not going to be happy that there are specifics.”

“Yeah, no he’s not. Except _he’s_ one of them,” Rodimus sighed. “I’m expected to bring our brats, too. Kicker, as well—and Spike, too. And just Pyra Magna for the last one.”

“What happens if you refuse or you can’t bring any or all of these individuals? I’m wary of the fact that this Empress requested your children—as well as Kicker,” Optimus Prime said with a deep sigh as he folded his arms across his chestplating. “And I cannot believe anyone—especially a Quintesson of any sort—would request _Galvatron’s_ presence. He could outright refuse because he **_despises_** Quintessons,” the former Autobot Leader murmured.

“I know—but it’s _very specific_. It’s all of these individuals or none of them whatsoever,” the flame-colored mech said sternly. “I have to convince Galvatron that this is an opportunity we cannot ever afford to pass up. _He’s going to be so furious_. And after I accept the invitation—we’re going to be subject to their transportation methods. It says that Bludgeon will be our guide—so, I’m assuming we’re to be picked up somewhere by him and deposited back there. They must have a way to prevent being found, this Empress and her followers—or else the universe would’ve heard of these ancient Quintessons by now.”

“You’ve just ticked _all the boxes_ of everything that Lord Galvatron hates,” Sixshot chuckled, shrugging and grinning beneath his facial shield. “He’ll insist on wanting to bring Cyclonus, if not an entire small strike force.”

“It’s our family, Spike, Kicker and Pyra Magna— _or none of us_ , the invitation is very specific on that,” Rodimus responded with a shake of his head. “Optimus, can you get me a line to Athenia—I need to talk to Spike first, well, after talking to Kicker……?” He chuckled, grinning at the former Autobot Leader.

* * * * *

“Look, Cyclonus—I like you and all, but _it is what it is_ ,” Rodimus Prime said, softly, plunking his servos on the purple-and-grey mech’s shoulders.

“Prime, I am not here to force myself along—I intend to watch and make sure that any duplicitous nonsense will not happen before you leave,” the Decepticons’ Second-in-Command said with a huff as he glanced at the servos on his shoulders. “Lord Galvatron would prefer to have me there, but I do understand you may be receiving vital tactical information for us. I will respect the rules that have been set forth. I look forward to your _very detailed report_.”

Rodimus breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad Cyclonus wasn’t going to fight him on this, because Galvatron’s attitude was going to be quite enough for this trip. But he knew that any report he made would **_never_** be detailed enough for the soldier and warmech. They had come to this neutral planet—some kind of world of religious sanctuaries—at the request of Bludgeon, who followed through on acceptance of the invitation. Rodimus Prime had come with his crew and the _Arrowshot_ would remain on this planet called Narrl, until Bludgeon brought them back. Galvatron and Novablaze had been accompanied by Cyclonus and no one else—and Cyclonus was likely leaving as soon as they were. This was Novablaze’s first space-travel trip using his own power, in his spaceplane mode……it had been a fun experience for him, flying along beside Cyclonus and his sire, as he was gushing to Kicker, Spike and Stormbreaker.

Galvatron was standing a distance away, his EM field screaming “ _stay back or else_ ” to pretty much everyone—he was incredibly annoyed and unhappy at everything. However, Pyra Magna was standing with some of the crew of the _Arrowshot_ , by their landing spot—chatting with them. She was very aware of Galvatron’s field and was going nowhere near that until she had to.

“You gonna say good-bye to him?” The flame-colored mech asked, grinning at Cyclonus.

“ _Pfft._ Such nonsense, Prime,” the serious mech responded with a scoffing huff in the tone of his voice.

“Okay then, I’ll see you when we get back,” Rodimus replied, giving Cyclonus a hug that the mech barely even tolerated, before striding over to Galvatron. “Hey, I get that you’re grumpy, my lord—but this is an opportunity we can’t pass up.”

“And, yet, you will not allow me to kill them all,” the powerful warmachine grumbled.

“Yeah, _let’s not do that_ , okay? Look—I know we’ve been burned by the Quintessons, but I think I’m starting to understand that they’re all not like most of the ones we’ve encountered. I think meeting the Empress will prove that,” Rodimus Prime answered with a sigh.

“Why should we believe anything that anyone is telling us, Prime? This mech, Bludgeon—I do not think he can be trusted, because of what we have surmised of his history. And that he is allied with Quintessons does little to tell me he is any sort of trustworthy,” Galvatron grunted, folding his arms across his chest and staring directly into his younger lover’s optics.

“You have a point, but……….Primus has been very clear about the danger of this _‘Darkest One’_. It’s on a level with, if not higher, than Unicron,” the flame-colored mech said, planting a servo on a hip and motioning with the other as he spoke. He noticed Galvatron’s flinch and slight motion to aim his nova cannon directly at him—which he didn’t do, even though he almost wanted to. “Yes, yes……you despise Unicron, but you are also very aware of how powerful Unicron was. If this _‘Darkest One’_ is like that—you know it’s a universe-endangering threat.”

“You are right. Unicron was dangerous, but it also devoured everything in it’s path. We have clearly not heard of this other entity making any sort of movements in the universe. How do we even know it exists and it is not simply some sort of myth or legend?” Galvatron snapped, his glare making Rodimus Prime squirm a little. Then the powerful Decepticon Leader was aware of a very familiar field and a light weight jumping up onto his back and hanging onto his cannon-kibble. “My Stormbreaker—I treasure you dearly, _but I am in an unpleasant mood!_ ” He said, but there was no threat in his voice or his EM field—so, he was saying it simply for the purpose of saying it.

“ _Sire shouldn’t be grumpy! We’re seeing a never-before-seen place! **It’s exciting**!_” The femmeling giggled, swinging her body as she hung on to the piece of kibble protruding from the grey-and-purple mech’s back.

“She has clearly gotten your love of adventure, my Prime,” Galvatron chuckled, finally giving a soft little smile. “ _It is hard to believe the tiny thing clawing at my knee-joints has become such a wild little monster!_ ” He laughed warmly, reaching a servo over his shoulder and motioning for her to quit swinging from his back and to come somewhere he could properly address her from.

“Stormy **_never_** did that!” The femmeling cried, hopping down and walking around to her sire’s frontside.

“ _Oh yes, you certainly did, my little monster!_ ” The powerful Decepticon Leader chortled, picking her up by the back of her neck and settling her in one arm, she swatted at his chestplating playfully. “I suppose if you are coming along with us, your sire will have to be on his best behavior—will he not?” He asked, gazing into the femmeling’s purple glass-covered optics.

“ _Yes he will!_ ” Stormbreaker said, seriously, then began to giggle.

Rodimus knew that as long as Stormbreaker were there, Galvatron would not do anything to upset her. He knew that Galvatron loved their second offspring probably even more than Galvatron may have liked even him, even if he couldn’t express that emotion in a way most Transformers could. It may even be that this Quintesson Empress knew that and it was the sole reason she had requested their children come along—to curb Galvatron’s murderous intentions towards their species. Galvatron would not slaughter any Quintessons in front of Stormbreaker—though he might in front of Novablaze, he considered Novablaze as much a part of his Decepticons as he did his offspring, and as a Decepticon, Novablaze would see the Decepticon Leader, not just his sire. This Empress seemed to know a lot about them, despite never having met any of them in person………it had been surprising that she had requested Spike Witwicky to come along—Rodimus may have been able to infer Kicker because of the boy being a part of his crew, now—but the invitation for Spike was one he could not fathom.

The request for Pyra Magna was likely because she had been created by Bora-il-Kalen and that was a Quintesson old enough to probably know of his Empress. Plus, the Torchbearers had been created to fight the Darkest One. If the Empress was really going to provide them with information on this ancient enemy—Pyra Magna would need to know about it.

Then a ship landed on the landing pad near the Arrowshot. Rodimus Prime nodded towards it and Galvatron followed his gaze. The two of them, Stormbreaker still in Galvatron’s arms, began walking towards the ship. Rodimus motioned to Kicker, Spike, Novablaze and Pyra Magna.

**|Sixshot, we’ll be back when we can—you guys enjoy the downtime on this world, okay?|**

**|We will, Prime. But be very careful. Do not overreach and get yourself into trouble—or else Lord Galvatron will slaughter everyone to defend you.|**

**|Got it.|**

After parting glyphs were sent—the seven that were requested boarded the ship and loitered in the boarding area until a magenta-and-green mech came in and greeted them politely.

“The Empress is grateful you chose to accept the invitation,” Bludgeon said, politely nodding over at Rodimus Prime. “A lot more will be made clear when we get to our destination.”

“You will not allow us to come to harm—will you?” Galvatron snapped, staring down at the very average-sized mech. “Even if you try to harm the fleshlings—I will be pressured to avenge them by my Prime, so I request that you do not even consider such a thing.”

“Gee, thanks Galvatron,” Kicker muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. He was actually wearing his exo-suit, because it did give him a little bit of protection from Transformer EM fields and he knew he’d be around Galvatron a lot longer than he was generally comfortable with. He gave the Decepticon Leader’s pede a half-hearted kick.

“Trust me. We know the dangers and we’ve seen that you’re preparing to confront it, even though you have no idea what you’re up against,” Bludgeon responded, motioning for them to follow him to the main room of the ship—the bridge—and motioned to seating for everyone. Oddly, human-sized seating for the two humans and Stormbreaker, with a seat made with Novablaze’s design in mind were there as well. “It would be selfish and destructive if we didn’t share the information we have, when you’ve given us the first hope that we have that it might be able to be defeated.”

Bludgeon walked over to the piloting area and Rodimus Prime accompanied him, seeing a co-pilot’s seat. The former Decepticon chuckled and politely said he needed no piloting assistance, but Rodimus could sit there if he promised not to mess with anything.

“You’ll get to hear everything once we get there—and a whole lot more will make sense, then,” the magenta-and-green mech responded. “The Empress would never reveal herself without reason, most of the species doesn’t even know of their Empress’ existence, but she has been working hard for all of them. Even the ungrateful, selfish youth of the species.”

The journey was uneventful and to protect the location, there were not even viewports to look out into space with. Bludgeon piloted the ship solely by coordinate locations on his piloting console. When they arrived and docked, everyone disembarking—they looked up into a nighttime sky, with a strange jungle canopy that looked half-cyberneticized.

“I don’t recognize a single star,” Rodimus whispered. “We really are somewhere we’ve never been before. This has to be well out of the Galactic Alliance’s territory.”

“More than warp-hop technology was used,” Spike murmured, thoughtfully. “I could feel a different type of system—hyper-lightspeed, maybe?” The older human male said, looking up at Rodimus Prime. He reached up and ran a gloved hand through his hair, which had more silver in it than it had a few years ago. Spike felt a strange tingle in his skin and scalp, which he thought may be some of the elements in the air on this world, but it was clearly designed for standard organic life with its oxygen-rich atmosphere. “I don’t think we humans are in any danger, but Kicker may want to remain in his exo-suit for the most part—I wonder if it’s the cybernetics of this world, because I think even I may be feeling something like your EM fields. It’s got to be rough on the kid.”

“The tingling thing—yeah, it’s like that but stronger. Too much makes my blood feel like it’s burning,” Kicker said, quietly, stopping near the young Autobot Leader and the man his father made his godfather. Spike asked the teenage boy to turn around and he messed with the energy pack on the back of the exo-suit. “ _Oh, wow—that’s like a hundred times better, Spike!_ ” He gasped softly.

“I just adjusted some ion flow through the atmosphere in the suit—it should dampen external electronics a little bit more,” the older human man chuckled, placing the micro-repair kit back into the pack on his hip.

“ _Heh_ …….I don’t even feel Galvatron like I normally do!” The boy laughed.

That was when they were introduced by Bludgeon to a couple of Quintessons of the likes that they had never seen before. They looked more complex than even the Quintesson scientist types looked. There was also a very tall mech with them, wearing the same double-brand that Bludgeon had—the mech had colors of a greyed-blue and gold on his armour. A massive sword was attached to his back and he wore some kind of cape that had patterns stitched in gold and the primary color was a dark blue. There was a chestplate shield that looked like it was in the form of some animal headshape—it probably meant that the mech had a bestial alt mode.

“This is _Bela-mai-Jun_ , the Empress’ chief administrator,” Bludgeon said, making a servo motion to the complex-armoured Quintesson wearing dark blue armour, etched with gold. “And Master Bela’s assistant, _Kai-un-Marr_.” The slightly smaller Quintesson, with slightly less complex armour, had the colors of dark red and silver. “The mech is the Empress’ personal bodyguard, _Thunderhowl_ ,” the green-and-magenta mech, added, motioning at the tall mech in the cape.

Named Quintessons clearly meant they were very old—if the complexity of their body armour didn’t already say that. Thunderhowl must have also been very old, because he had a presence that was a lot like Alpha Trion’s—very heavy and very centered.

In perfect Galactic Standard, Bela-mai-Jun asked everyone to follow it to a particular area. It was set in the perfect pentagonal shape from the main gathering room—each point of the pentagram led off to a room, likely some sort of habitation suite.

“This central area may be where you can all meet together and relax with one another. Services can be provided by inquiry. Kai-un-Marr will see to your needs—our administration office is behind this door,” Bela-mai-Jun said, pointing to one door with some glyphs on it that nobody recognized, but also had a particular color on the sign that was upon it.

Rodimus began to realize that the colors were important to the Quintessons—it wasn’t just that the Matrix and his scanning systems had assigned the translation of the ancient Quintessonian glyphs to colors. There were the three primary colors of blue, red and yellow—then there was purple and green. The shape of the room being a pentagon had the room that Bela-mai-Jun pointing at with one of it’s large tentacles (and like Raj-ur-Malekk, the two sidearm tentacles had branching digits on the tips……..did that mean that the younger a Quintesson was, the more tentacles it had?) with the color of _BLUE_. That may have explained why Thunderhowl’s cape was blue and Bela-mai-Jun’s armour was blue……..it represented the Empress’ royal color, perhaps?

“We will leave the door open during all hours, including recharge hours and a staff member will be on-hand to take your requests if Kai or myself are unavailable to you,” the Quintesson said firmly. “We have assigned rooms based upon your personal alliances and stations, if that would be acceptable to you. Lord Galvatron and Rodimus Prime—you have been assigned the room with the purple door sign. Humans Spike Witwicky and Kicker Jones—you have been given the room with the red door sign. Lady Magna—you are given the room with yellow door sign. And the children will have their own shared room with the green door sign,” they added, pointing at each door as they assigned it.

Rodimus inwardly chuckled at the fact the Quintesson deliberately addressed Galvatron with “ _Lord Galvatron_ ”—it was most certainly a political move, set to try and ease Galvatron just a little bit at being on a world where he was surrounded by a species he utterly despised. These Quintessons had been observing them all for quite some time if they noticed how Galvatron “ _calmed down_ ” when he was addressed with a royal moniker. They probably had plenty of other plans to diffuse any problems Galvatron may have had with where he was—the rest would be up to Rodimus Prime and Stormbreaker to take care of, since they were both good at manipulating the mech they loved.

“Thanks for taking everything into consideration,” Rodimus said, nodding politely at the old Quintesson. “Is there anything you need us to do before we meet with the Empress—and do you know when that will be?” He asked, curiously.

“It will be tomorrow afternoon. You will have plenty of time to adjust to your surroundings and to get a proper amount of recharge,” Bela-mai-Jun responded. “You do not need to do anything except _‘be’_. We know what we asked of you by coming here, simply being here is what we requested,” it said, waving a tentacle dismissively. Then the mask changed from the dispassionate one to the mask of rage, though there was no sense of rage coming from the Quintesson. “ _We will definitely ensure you stay in line otherwise!_ ” It said, then gave something akin to a laugh—which they had never heard from a Quintesson ever before.

“ _Oh my god, a Quintesson with a sense of humour!_ ” Rodimus laughed as he understood the serious old Quintesson was actually making a joke.

Galvatron slapped his servo against the back of Rodimus Prime’s helm with a snort.

“I will brook no nonsense from anyone, not even **_you_** , Prime!” He snapped, clearly still agitated at being here, despite nothing threatening looming before them. “Give me Energon and leave me be—I will be ready for whatever it is you are planning tomorrow,” Galvatron added, glaring at the Quintesson administrator, barely hiding his contempt.

“ _Rude much?_ ” Kicker groaned, facepalming the visor of his exosuit’s helmet. “Do you have food and stuff for humans? ‘Cause we don’t subsist on Energon……..” he asked, looking at the Quintesson in blue armour curiously. “And, you know— _facilities_? Because things like a bath and otherwise would be pretty nice, too.”

Bela-mai-Jun chuckled warmly, showing “ _kinder emotions_ ” despite the lack of masks to cover such a thing, and then its masks spun back around to the dispassionate mask. “Yes, we have ensured that we have proper facilities for the organic species such as yourselves. As you will see, we have been planning to have this meeting for a long time, but we are only now fully prepared to have such an event finally go forward,” the administrator said, wrapping its tentacles around its waist in the gesture most similar to crossing arms over one’s chest.

“I’m almost afraid to ask how long,” Spike mumbled, planting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “Are we allowed to communicate or not?”

“Not with anyone but those in the rooms here. No off-world communications, because anything can be traced if you do so,” Bela-mai-Jun responded, uncurling one tentacle-arm and motioning with it. “Clearly you understand we intend to stay hidden?” It asked, looking at the older human man.

“ _Figures_. Makes sense,” Spike replied, nodding at the Quintesson.

“Then we will allow you to relax—suitable snacks and beverages will be brought to the common room shortly,” Bela-mai-Jun said as it motioned to its assistant, Kai-un-Marr. The Quintesson in dark red and silver left the room and likely went to go get other staff to prepare the requested items. “If there is anything else you require in the meantime, please come to the office,” it added, turning to hover towards the door marked with the blue sign and glyphs. The door was left open, even after Bludgeon and Thunderhowl followed it.

It was likely that the office had hallways that branched to other areas of the huge building they were in. They had come through the doorway pointed out as the office and it seemed to be a strange lobby area from a corridor until they came into this gathering room and saw the pentagonal arrangement. Rodimus Prime began to wonder if the whole building was built in “ _fives_ ”, based around pentagonal rooms like this. It probably made the whole massive structure look strange from an aerial view, but would suit the Quintessons’ lock into sets of five.

Rodimus Prime sat down on the large couch, as Kicker and Spike found chairs suitable to them. Pyra Magna went to check out her room and Novablaze followed her curiously, asking if she’d come to check out their room next—the flame-colored mech noted that his son was asking for the opinion of a powerful warrior that was not his sire, for likely the safety of the room. Cyclonus’ tendency towards caution was rubbing off on the youngling. Stormbreaker was tearing around the room with tons of energy, singing weird little songs loudly and having a blast with seeing a new place.

Galvatron still stood off to the side of the circular area of seating in the center, still clearly very annoyed at being here and everything.

“Hey, come on and sit down, my Emperor,” Rodimus said, fondly, patting the place next to him on the couch.

“ ** _I think not_** ,” Galvatron snapped.

Stormbreaker, still singing loudly, hopped up and grabbed the cannon-kibble on her sire’s back and swung from it. Galvatron facepalmed himself, thinking that everyone around him had suddenly lost their minds, being surrounded by a known enemy in their own territory.

“ _Sire’s too grumpy! Sire needs to chill!_ ” Stormbreaker said in a very loud sing-song voice, swinging happily from her sire’s cannon-kibble.

“ _My precious Stormbreaker—please stop testing your sire’s vast patience!_ ” Galvatron said, very firmly.

Rodimus had to force himself not to laugh, but Kicker burst out into laughter. Galvatron having “ _vast patience_ ” was absolutely untrue. And everyone in the universe knew that!

Stormbreaker pouted and walked around to stand in front of her sire, then made grabby hands up at him—as she used to do when she was much smaller. Galvatron gave a soft sigh and picked her up. She snuggled against his chestplating and that was when Kicker and Rodimus Prime could feel Galvatron’s stormy EM field begin to settle down a little bit.

“Rodimus—what do you make of all of this?” Spike asked as he leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, also crossing one leg over another.

“This actually suits my idea of the complexity of the Quintesson species. I always felt like we weren’t seeing everything about them, but now knowing we were mostly encountering _‘younger’_ ones—it makes a lot more sense to me now,” the flame-colored mech responded. 

“That’s what I thought, too. They have five masks to portray five expressions. It makes sense that they had at least five _‘subcultures’_ in their society. There are the money-focused ‘youth’, I suppose we can call them _‘entrepreneurs’_. The scientists. Here we have politicians and diplomats,” the older human man murmured, reaching up to rub his chin thoughtfully. “This is probably why I’m here—and your diplomatic skills are good, too. But _what_ am I being a diplomat for? I don’t represent your species, so—are these Quintessons hoping for some kind of contact with Earth?”

“Why would the Quintessons want _anything_ from your fragile species?” Galvatron grumbled, pacing about behind the couch Rodimus was sitting on, Stormbreaker falling asleep in his arms.

Spike knew it wasn’t meant to be as mean as it sounded, because he knew the Decepticon Leader hated any species beyond his own, especially any of the fleshy variety. He couldn’t see the point of any other race beyond Transformers.

“Because we’re new to the Galactic Alliance—and a species they know virtually nothing about,” Spike answered, remembering when he’d once been kidnapped by Quintessons years and years ago, along with Kup and Ultra Magnus. “We may have potential to the Quintessons. They won’t know that until they learn more about humans.”

“Very well, then. But you suggested they have five separate subcultures—you have only postulated three types right now. Should we be expecting any specific threats from the other two subcultures we have not seen yet?” Galvatron responded, finally focusing on the conversation, because if he had to be aware of a more powerful branch of Quintessons—he knew he needed **_that_** information.

“I’m pretty sure one other subculture may be their royalty—or the equivalent of their government, even if the younger ones are distanced from that government,” Rodimus Prime added, half-turning and resting his arm across the back of the couch, gazing up at his lover.

“The fifth would have to be a _warrior culture_ , right?” Kicker said, hopping into the conversation—even though it was more “ _educational_ ” than he wanted to have right now. “In a lot of the history of race and culture we have on Earth—if there’s a government, there’s always a military, too.”

“Warrior Quintessons? Now _that_ could be very dangerous, Prime—I do not like that theory at all,” the powerful grey-and-purple Decepticon growled softly.

“Unless that’s what…….the Sharkticons are?” The flame-colored mech mumbled. “Or more than the Sharkticons—the mechs or femmes associated with them? But, no……….. _soldiers make sense_. It would be the perfect balance to a society,” he sighed.

Galvatron made a soft humming sound. “I wonder what a warrior Quintesson would even look like? Perhaps they would be powerful, rather than crafty and trying to sneak around and do things?” The powerful warmech murmured.

“Perhaps they’d even be a challenge to you, my Emperor?” Rodimus Prime chuckled.

“ _Pfft_. Perhaps. It would be interesting to find out, I suppose,” the purple-and-grey mech chuckled softly. “I will put this monster to sleep, consume my Energon and then head off to recharge as well. Join me when you feel like it, Prime,” Galvatron added, walking towards the room that had been assigned to Stormbreaker and Novablaze, when he saw his offspring and the commander of the Torchbearers come out of it.

* * * * *

_Once, a long time ago—life, the universe and everything was created. Various species and societies across the universe call this many things—from obscure words like “IT” to “the big bang”. In general, it was theorized that the universe was created from an apocalyptic event like a massive explosion and from then on, the universe continued to expand out—creating various galaxies and quadrants. Life and death existed side-by-side with each other._

_Life found many ways to exist, in many forms and many existences. Over time, it developed, evolved and changed—became more complex and so much richer._

_But the beginning was simpler. The universe was smaller. The galaxies were fewer and the species in them fewer still._

_One planet had five concurrent species living on their world. These five species lived together, worked together to develop their world—and became a co-existence. This planet was called “ **Quintessa** ”—it had a unique material makeup, which fostered both biological and mechanical lifeforms that came into existence upon it._

_And then arrived the anti-existence—the cast-off essence from the initial explosion of the universe. The one that most galactic records would simply name “ **The Darkest One** ”. Worlds couldn’t fight against it, they didn’t know how—they didn’t have the power or the skill to fight something that caused obliteration simply by coming in contact with it. Until it arrived on Quintessa and the natives found an element birthed from their world could cause damage to the anti-existence._

_The Darkest One could not allow this world to live. It seethed into others and converted them into its minions, to do the work it could not on Quintessa—to ignite its very destruction and prevent this element to be discovered as a potential weapon to try and destroy the anti-existence with._

_The five dominant species on Quintessa fought and their world broke._

_It was destroyed and the anti-existence consumed as much of the shattered world as it could—around the element that could harm it._

_And what was left of the Quintessons………they scattered and hid throughout the universe. They did what they could to simply exist. And then to try and build themselves up again._

“So, wait—there were **_five_** dominant species on Quintessa?” Spike asked, curiously, looking at the thick veil that obscured the Empress from being seen by her guests and her staff that were in the large throne room area. The older human male leaned forwards on the edge of the table and patiently waited for an answer.

“Yes, but over time—two of the individual species went extinct and one of them absorbed what they could of that species,” the deep voice said from behind the veil. “Those of us calling ourselves Quintessons that you know now, we absorbed two of the species now extinct—it is why we are the way we are now. We did not always appear this way, we absorbed some of the other two species of Quintessa as well, because we feared the loss of all our races from our original world.”

It was a large nugget of knowledge to think upon—that the Quintessons that they all knew were amalgamated from FIVE species on their original homeworld. But it made a lot of sense in explaining a species with five distinct cultures, it seemed like.

“The Transformers—as you call them, _‘native Cybertronians’_ as they call themselves—they were a fervent wish to bring one of our nearly-extinct cultures back,” the Empress explained, her voice filled with pain and regret and longing. “Thunderhowl is the last of the mechanoid natives of Quintessa—he is the one in this room who is older than everyone else, including myself—he saw when I was born to the former Empress,” she said, softly. “Politics have choked Cybertron since even before the Transformers broke from the Quintessons that created their world. As the younger of our amalgamated kind began to overpower the older ones—the desire to make the newly birthed mechanoid species into _‘slave product’_ was perhaps born from the madness that our species can acquire as a result of the amalgamation.”

Galvatron grunted and folded his arms over his chest. He didn’t understand everything, but he did understand that a strain of madness had infected most of the Quintesson species they interacted with—the ones they knew as “ _Quintessons_ ”………and as someone who had been once plagued with madness, due to “ _problems_ ”, he could understand that the entire Quintesson race may not be responsible for what a few factions of their kind had done.

“Feeling a bit of empathy there, my lord?” Rodimus murmured, bumping his elbow lightly against his older lover’s.

“Empathy, **_no_**. Understanding, **_yes_** ,” Galvatron whispered back. “When more than one voice echoes in your head—it can be difficult to find your proper path. If the madness persisted in a species that absorbed four others, that many voices would make insanity a normal occurrence.”

“ _So_ …..I mean, I’m pretty young, so if I get it—the Quintessons wanted to recreate one of the original species from Quintessa, right?” Novablaze asked, raising a servo—as he’d been taught to do when he wanted to ask a question.

“ _Yes_. We went in many directions, but the ones who created Cybertron—the planet they called Prime—they wished to try and recreate one of their fraternal species from the homeworld. But the young ones never knew the original Quintessa and chose to ignore our history,” the Empress answered with a soft chuckle. “Loneliness can be a motivator. Loneliness when you can still feel the other species echoing inside of you can skew your own desires,” she sighed, the pain and regret and longing in her voice again.

“Did the Darkest One take advantage of that?” Spike asked, looking down at the notes he’d been taking as the Quintesson Empress detailed the history of Quintessa and the beginning of all of this chaos that was returning to plague them now.

“I imagine so. As I said, some had become influenced by the anti-existence—as psyches began to absorb the other species, I imagine the Darkest One snuck into them through the fractures,” the Empress explained.

“I have decided I do not hate your kind as much as I pity you all,” Galvatron said, rising from his chair and moving towards the veil.

Thunderhowl moved in front of him—to prevent the Decepticon Leader from getting any closer to the Quintesson Empress, one servo drifting over his shoulder towards his sword.

“But if you expect to win my trust— _you will not hide yourself from us……… **Empress**_ ,” Galvatron responded, stopping and taking a relaxed pose, one servo on a hip and the other relaxed at his side.

The Empress chuckled.

“ _Yes_. However, I must ask a favor from you—young Emperor—if I am to reveal myself to you,” the voice laughed warmly.

“I do not grant favors unless they will benefit me in some way. It is time you explained why you have asked the cadre here that you have,” the purple-and-grey mech snapped. “You asked for _very specific_ individuals to come here. You asked for children to come here. _Why?_ Merely a history lesson? **_I think not!_** ”

“Young lord Galvatron—you are _exactly_ like the species we once had on our world. Individual, focused, instinctive— ** _strong_** ,” the Empress chuckled warmly. “You remind me of Thunderhowl when I first met him,” she added.

Thunderhowl gave a snort and eased back.

“The clash of age and youth did not let the early creations of your line fulfill your true purpose—only time and evolution allowed you to do so,” the Empress said, her voice strong and serene. “The way you all are now—it is the missing fraternal species of our homeworld fully reborn. If only we could bring back the others in the same way, perhaps we would no longer be fractured and lonely and longing for what we once had.”

Then, the veil rippled as something touched it. Multiple tentacles, with small digits at their tips grasped the folds of the veil and pulled it back. The being that was there…….. _defied true description_. If the Quintessons that existed now had absorbed multiple species amd evolved that way down the line—it didn’t show, unless you counted their multiple masks. The Empress was the realization of one species that had clearly absorbed others. Her frame was long and tall, with tentacle arms as the scientist Quintessons had, as well as some tentacles at the hips, near two long legs that looked very animal—very digitigrade. Digitigrade and encased in some kind of scale armour. Her torso was quite robotic in design, with soft pastel colors—not unlike a femme such as Arcee or Elita-1. The most abnormal part was her head—five small masks circled a helm, that framed an organic face that was akin to an Earth seal or sea lion. Before the face was a glass-covering and one could see how the masks on the helm might move about to cover the face.

“Young lord Galvatron, I have revealed myself to you—now, I wish for you to grant me a favor,” the Empress said quietly.

“I told you—I do not grant favors unless it will benefit **_me_** ,” the powerful warmachine responded with a snort.

“ _It will_. It may take time before you see the benefit, but I assure you—the alliance I wish to forge will benefit you,” she responded, waving a couple tentacles dismissively. “As you had all been speaking of the other day—you pondered the multiplicity of the Quintessons and now, perhaps you understand why there may be different types amongst us. And, yes, _we have warriors_ —however, they are so much fewer now. Lord Galvatron—I should like for you to assist in training our remaining warriors and we shall teach you our ways and skills. This will benefit two groups of warriors.”

Galvatron grunted and folded his arms over his chest as he bowed his head to think about that.

“We had requested the presence of specific individuals for important reasons. The Decepticons can bring new ways and skills to our warriors. The Earth ambassador we can forge a new alliance with. The Autobot Leader can help us integrate to the universe at large—over time, not right away,” she said, looking at Rodimus Prime who looked incredibly excited at the prospect, and waved her tentacles in his direction. “Pyra Magna represents the best that one of our kind could have made and is a key to the path of finally eliminating the anti-existence. The young human, we wished to explain his ability—because we have seen this skill in one of our kind, once long ago. We wish to show him how important his gift truly is—and perhaps we can show him how to protect himself from the intensity of it,” she added, gazing over at Kicker. “As for your children—well, **_I_** wanted to see them. New, properly birthed progeny of the mechanloid species we once had on our world……..plus there is something I wish to give your eldest.”

“ _Awwww_ , Stormy gets nothing?” Stormbreaker pouted softly.

“Little Stormbreaker— _you bring much joy to me_. The last little mechanloid I ever saw was…….” the Empress trailed off, glancing at Thunderhowl. “She was **_wonderful_** and I was very selfish in asking for you to come, to see a bright little femme once again.”

“That actually makes **_you_** the most important one here, Storm,” Rodimus Prime chuckled warmly, rubbing his femmeling’s helm very fondly.

“ _Yaaaaaay!!!_ ” The red-colored little femme cried, tossing up her servos.

“What are you going to give my heir? And **_I_** must see it first, to ensure you are not playing any games,” Galvatron snapped as he glanced back and motioned at Novablaze to join him closer to the Empress’ seating area.

“Do you recall that I explained there was an element on Quintessa that could harm the Darkest One?” The Empress said, making a motion with some arm-tentacles at Thunderhowl. “I believe you have been directed towards an ancient gestalt’s sword as having contained the same element. We forged this, with the last remnants of that element—in the hopes that one day a great warrior would come to wield it for us. The prophesies have led us to the potential of young Novablaze.”

“A Quintesson I spoke with said that Victorion’s sword was the last of that element,” Rodimus Prime said with a deep frown as he rose to his pedes, glancing curious over at Pyra Magna. She shrugged lightly as she looked back at Rodimus.

“It was the last of the element from our planet, yes,” the Empress responded as Thunderhowl handed her a long box. “ _However_ ………the previous Empress—her frame had the element integrated in it. This is the element, purified, from my mother’s frame,” she said as she opened the box and walked down the short steps to stand in front of Galvatron and Novablaze, standing just a little taller than Galvatron. “As the gestalt was given a sword made with the element of Quintessa—we are giving you a blade made from the element that was in my mother’s frame. It is the element of Quintessa in its purest form,” the Empress said, leaning down to hold the open box to Novablaze.

The sword inside of the box was beautifully crafted—the metal on the hilt was colored with purple and yellow and the blade gleamed an impossible white-silver.

“We would like to give this sword to you, young Novablaze— _it is what feels truly right_ ,” the Empress responded.

Galvatron looked down at the sword and used his minor scanning abilities to look at it. Nothing untoward showed up on his HUD, though he didn’t have the wide variety of scanning abilities that Rodimus Prime had. He no longer had the skepticism he had when they arrived here. Learning about the truth of the Quintesson race opened him up a little more to knowing who he could trust and who he would completely obliterate given the opportunity amongst the Quintessons. Then he rubbed a servo between Novablaze’s shoulders and encouraged his eldest spawn to take the sword offered to him.

The young mech slipped his digits around the grip of the sword and lifted it out of the box. It felt so natural to him!

“ ** _Wow_**. _This is great! Thank you so much!_ ” The mechling said, grinning at the Empress.

“All of you give us great hope that the anti-existence can be stopped—and that one day we can regain a portion of what we all lost,” the Empress said, her voice warm and—for the first time since they had entered her presence— _truly happy_.

**Author's Note:**

> A whole lot of more modern Transformers are showing up now, as I start to run down on my G1 characters I can snag and assign somewhere.
> 
> Actually, I just picked up the Netflix Hotlink toy, which is my new favorite Seeker--so, that's why he got cast as the information broker. When I decided he had a "staff"--I started going through random and obscure characters to put on his staff. My notes for this series are becoming MASSIVE! *laughs* While I haven't mentioned them all, you heard Nautica mentioned. Amusingly enough, I was just proofreading this first chapter when I picked up my first box of the new expansion of the TCG (Titan Masters Attack) and I had to laugh, because.......uh, like THREE of the characters with cards in this expansion are characters I've snagged to place in one area or another with this 'fic. XD
> 
> Also, I had fun with using Swindle here in this chapter. *chuckle*


End file.
